GES 
rO:.OLD  HOMES 


FLETCHER    MOSS 


%fnjm> 


M'' 


UBMRt 


s 


/A 


/  iJ 


/^^ 


:^!r>e«^'2«-'5«f*:s 


'i5as«S«=!KS«aaS?si«?>?*^' 


PILGRIMAGES 

TO    OLD    HOMES 


-i-r^TJfiMtfrr'-^-^^ 


PILGRIMAGES 

TO    OLD    HOMES 


By 
FLETCHER     MOSS 

OF 

THE   OLD    PARSONAGE 
DIDSBURY,   ESQJJIRE 

One  of  His  Majesty's  Justices  of  the  Pe;ice 
for  the  County  Palatine  of  I,ancaster 

ENGLAND 


JOHN       LANE       COMPANY 

67     FIFTH     AVENUE,    NEW     YORK 

MDCCCCVI 


'^gOD    SAVE    YOU,    ^JLq%IM^ 

mjithcr  are  you  hound  f'"" 

All's   Well  that    Ends   Well. 


Printed  by  Ballantyne,  Hanson  &■  Co. 
At  the   I^).illantym-  Press 


o 


P  r  e  f  a  c  e 


N(  'E  upon  a  time  there  was  a  man  Avho  said 
it  was  wicked  to  go  on  pilgrimage  ;  but  that 
man  soon  got  into  troul)le,  though  he  was 
very  honest  and  respectable  :  for,  like  the 
Ephesians  of  old,  who  felt  their  faith  and  craft 
endangered,  the  Clhin-ch  became  alarmed,  and  the 
lawyers  scented  a  job,  so  they  accused  him  of  heresy, 
and  here  are  some  extracts  from  his  trial. 


Eryal  of  Jlastrr  SEiUiam  ^Ijorpr  Prrstr  for  IlKrcsur 

3  3uUi  U07. 
Itnoiiim  bcut  tn  all  fflen  tliat  rctic  .  .  . 

"  Slnli  tijc  Hrriirbisliop  ^niti,  '  itHijnt  saist  tijou — (K\)at  mm  slniltic 
not  go  on  ^Sclarcmacjcs,'  .  .  .  anti  ^  sait  .  .  .  '  tiriamijnr  luliosocticr 
intll  tfaentfc  of  tljcs  i^ilgvimis  anti  ijr  sljall  not  funtir  ttirc  Ittcn  or 
(LHaoinrn  ti)at  knotoc  siirclu  a  (Tommauntimcnt  of  #oti,  nor  can  sao 
ttiet'r  ^atfr^i^ostEV  anli  3[ljf  fttavia,  nor  tl)ctr  tTrctio  rcticlu  in  ong 
mancr  of  ILanguagc.  .  .  .  illjru  go  fntiicr  anti  ttiitiifv  noiri  on  \^iU 
grimagcs  more  for  tije  |]dti)c  of  tJjcir  ISotitcs  tijan  of  tijcir  Joules  .  .  . 
aul)  sprnl^c  nukill  ifflonrg  anti  (Tiootirs  upon  btn'ous  hostelers  .  .  .  anti 
snngc  luauton  Snugrs  anti  some  oilier  iJilgrrmis  toill  1)auc  iDttli  tlicm 
38aggc  ^ipcs ;  soc  tiiat  currii  J"oliinc  llicu  romc  HiroUJC,  tnlial  njiHi  tl)c 
i^ousc  of  tljri'r  J^ungingr  anti  luitli  tlir  sountic  of  tlirir  IJiping  anti 
toiH)  tije  Jiangcloiig  of  tlirir  CTantrvburo  Lirllis,  anti  mitii  tiir  IS-irhiing 
out  of  ©oggt's  after  il]nn,  thru  maUr  inorr  iloisr  tljan  if  tijr  iiung 
came  tljttc  ainaoc  toitij  all  I)is  Clarions  anti  manu  oilier  IBrnstrrllrs. 
Unti  if  tf)£S  fflcn  anti  JElomrn  br  a  fflonrtli  in  tlirir  IJiglrimagr 
manu  of  tlicm  sljall  be  an  lialf=gcar  after  grrat  Jangrlcrs,  dlale^ 
(tellers  anti  Eoers.' 


viii  PREFACE 

"  Hull  t!if  3rciifliisliop  saiti  to  mr,  '  ILrutir  losdl,  t'pou  sfcst  not  frvrr 
uuougli  in  tliis  matter.  .  .  .  IJiltjvrmos  linur  initli  tiirm  iicitli  ^iingns 
anti  also  ^Jiprvs  tliat  tolian  our  of  tlirm  tliat  gortl)  bavfotc  stvikcili 
i)is  CToo  upon  a  Stone  anti  liuvtrtli  Inim  t-orr  anli  niakctli  liyni  to 
blctir  it  is  ttrll  tionr  lliat  iir  or  In's  iFcloto  brgnn  tlian  a  Sougc  or 
rise  taUc  out  of  l]is  Bosomc  a  Darfgc^pupr  for  to  tiraif  alnay  luit!) 
sodic  Iflcrtiic  tiir  iiuvtr  of  ijis  Jprlotn.  JTor  luitlj  sociK  solace  tlK 
JTraurll  anti  iLBcrinrssr  of  t\)t  ^^olgrrmcs  is  lirjiitrlg  anti  mcrilu  broucfhtf 
fortbc' 

"  Hnt)  E  saili,  '  Sir,  Sruntr  ^aulr  tradict  ittcn  to  lucpr  luiti]  tbcni 
tljat  rurpc'  llnli  tlK  ilrrl}rbis1ioppr  saiti,  '  iCUiat  janglrtli  tliou  agrinst 
fHnmis  Daiocion?  ^^H)at  sodirr  tiiou  or  sorlj  otlirr  saij,  C  say 
ti)at  t\}t  pilgrimarfc  tbat  nolu  is  uscti,  is  to  tl)r:ii  that  tioo  it  a 
prausablc  anti  a  gooti  mranc  to  comr  tijc  ratiirr  to  6 rare.  .  .  .  iLtliiat 
gcssc  m  tfiis  utiiotc  inill  sprakc  .  .  .'  batilir  tlir  roustablr  to  iiaur  nic 
fortli  tfirns  in  liastc  ...  to  a  foul  unlioncst  prison." 

ilftcr  tljis  it  is  not  knoinn  faijat  bcramr  of  Ijim. 

As  the  archbishop  had  burnt  one  Lollard,  and  a 
clerk  on  his  knees  begged  that  he  might  cure  this  one 
in  three  days,  we  may  guess  what  became  of  him.  It 
is  liere  recorded,  in  the  words  of  an  archbishop  who 
used  strong  language  and  strong  measures,  that  a 
pilgrimage  is  "  praysa])le,"  Imt  all  the  same  let  us 
examine  ourselves  carefully  as  to  the  complaints  of 
Master  William  Thorpe.  Firstly  :  w'e  do  know  the 
commandments — fortunately  nothing  is  asked  al)out 
keeping  them.  We  admit  the  health  of  our  bodies  is 
a  o-reat  consideration  with  us,  and  we  do  spend  money 
in  hostels,  but  we  hope  the  hostelers  are  not  all  vicious. 
We  deny  the  singing  of  wanton  songs,  or  the  playing 
on  bao-pipes.  I  admit  that  it  takes  more  than  tlie 
winter  half  of  the  year  to  Avrite  this  tale-telling  of 
our  pilgrimages;  and  the  difficulty  of  knowing  wliat  is 
truth  is  as  great  to-day,  in  spite  of  all  our  education, 
as  it  was  in  the  days  of  Pontius  Pilate. 

Neither  the  archbishop  nor  his  victim,  the  "  Leude 
losell  "  (*.<?.  ignorant  lose-all),  had  ever  heard  of  bicycles, 


PREFACE  ix 

or  they  would  have  known  we  were  more  hkely  to 
tumble  on  to  our  heads  than  to  have  gone  hartbot  and 
made  our  "  Too  l)lede  "  on  a  stone.  It  is  strange  this 
man  came  from  Shrewsbury,  which  may  be  said  to  be 
the  centre  of  our  pilgrimages,  and  the  tale-telling  that 
he  complains  of  is  solace  to  more  strangers  than  we 
know  of.  For  instance,  in  a  magazine  called  the  Idler, 
page  99,  October  1905,  Mr.  R.  Barr,  the  editor,  who 
bought  a  copy  of  my  last  book,  has  written  :  "  Get,  when 
you  can,  a  book  entitled  '  Pilgrimages  to  Old  Homes,' 
which  will  cost  you  ten  shillings  and  sixpence,  and 
will  be  worth  ten  and  a  half  times  the  money.  It  is 
written  by  the  Heverend  [.s/c]  Fletcher  Moss  .  .  .  and 
is  published,  as  all  books  should  be,  by  the  author,  at 
the  Old  Parsonage  in  Didsbury.  The  photographs  in 
this  book  are  most  excellent,  taken  by  an  amateur, 
X,  who  takes,  developes,  and  prints  his  own  pictures. 
They  are  the  best  I  have  ever  seen  done  in  any  book 
or  magazine." 

Mr.  Barr  will  have  no  need  to  buy  a  copy  of  this 
book  ;  but  as  I  am  rather  tired  of  publishing  books  at 
half-a-guinea  and  seeing  them  resold  for  two  or  three 
guineas,  the  price  of  this  will  begin  at  a  guinea. 

And  — we  would  fain  go  on  more  pilgrimages,  what- 
ever the  heretics  and  the  critics  and  the  scoffers  may 
say. 

FLETCHER   MOSS. 


The  Old  Parsoxagk, 
Didsbury. 


IN   THE   BURNESS,   STANDON    HALL 


Contents 


76 

81 

95 

loy 


I'AGK 

WELLS— GLASTONBURY i 

WALFORD  HALL— STANDON 33 

CHARTLEY— SOMERFORD— TUTBURY— CROXDEX  .       44 

THE  STANDISH  PEW  IN  CHORLEY  CHURCH,  LANCA- 
SHIRE       

HOGHTON  TOWER 

YALE— BALA— WREXHAM— YYRNWY 

HADDON  HALL     .         . 

SOMERSET  —  BRADFORD  -  ON  -  AVON  —  NORTON  ST 
PHILIP— MUCHELNEY—ATHELNEY  -TAUNTON— 
CROWCOMBE  —  CLEEVE  —  DUNSTER  —  EXMOOR  — 
DULVERTON 124 

SOMERSET— BATH— LYTES  GARY-  NUNNEY— SOUTH 
WRAXALL— GREAT  CHALFIELD— MONTACUTE  — 
STOKE-SUB-HAMDON  —  BARRINGTON  COURT  — 
BUR— DUNSTER 157 

COMPTON  WYN YATES 220 

BADDESLEY  CLINTON 236 

THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  SKULL  (VVARDLEY  HALL)    .         .261 

WORCESTER— TEWKESBURY  — BIRTS- MORTON  — HUD- 
DINGTON— CLEEVE  PRIOR— EVESHA:\I—HARVING- 


TON 


276 


xii  CONTENTS 


PACK 


HANDFOrrrH  hall 315 

PAIIK  HALL 327 

SLADE   HALL 343 

THE  BIDDINGS 352 

MOEPHANY  HALL— BITS  OF  OLD  CHESHIBE          .         .  354 

SPOBT 356 

THE    OLD    PABSONAGE,    DIDSBUBY  .         .  -360 

INDEX 389 


PILGRIMAGES    TO 

OLD    HOMES 

WELLS— GLASTONBURY 

NO  sooner  were  the  last  words  of  my  last  book 
written  than  I  wondered  where  we  should 
go  on  pilgrimage  when  the  summer  came 
upon  the  earth  again.  There  was  no  doubt 
that,  given  health  and  strength,  we  should  seek  and 
find  some  famous,  perhaps  forgotten,  English  home ; 
but  where  ?  For  we  have  always  shunned  the  noisy 
crowd,  the  beaten  track,  and  wandered  oW  among  the 
lonely  hihs,  or  by  the  quiet  brooks,  or  to  the  moated 
hall,  to  find  the  homes  of  those  who  have  lived  and 
died  in  the  long  ago.  Then  the  happy  thought  came 
to  me  that  we  had  never  seen  the  birthplace  of  our 
English  nation.  A  thousand  years  have  passed  away 
since,  in  a  lonely  swamp,  an  English  king  first  kindled 
into  life  our  nation,  laws,  and  literature.  Xear  by 
it  is  the  desolate  ruin  where  the  relig-ion  of  Christ 
was  brouo-ht  to  our  island  home  of  Britain  almost 
another  thousand  years  before ;  and,  in  the  silted 
fields  below,  men  now  dig  the  prehistoric  graves  of 
those  whose  homes  were  here  even  before  the  Christ 
was  heard  of 

To    the    land    we    now    call    Somerset,   the   summer 
seat    of   the    Anglo-Saxons,  long-recorded    legends    tell 

A 


2  PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

that  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  \^■ho  begged  the  body  of 
Christ  for  burial  in  his  own  sepulchre,  then  left  his 
country  for  a  better  land,  found  it  in  the  vale  or  isle 
of  Avalon.  A  great  prize  to  the  Romans  were  their 
Aqua?  Solis,  the  health-giving  waters  of  the  sun,  which 
even  now  at  Bath  are  bubbling,  boiling,  rushing,  as 
if  two  thousand  years  were  nought  to  them.  Under 
the  high-altar  at  Glastonbury  was  the  grave  of  Arthur, 
the  hero  of  romance,  the  semi-mythic  king  of  the  poets  ; 
and  near  by  St.  Dunstan  seized  the  Devil  by  the  nose 
with  his  tongs,  warning  him  not  to  come  there  again. 
Here  in  the  marshes  of  Athelney  King  Alfred  burnt 
the  cakes,  and  welded  together  the  scholars  and  the 
soldiers  of  the  English,  struggling  for  life  and  freedom, 
to  be  the  founders  of  our  nation,  its  history,  and  its 
literature.  The  great  desire  of  that  great  king  was 
the  furtherance  of  education;  and  my  education  was 
lacking  in  respect  to  him  until  I  had  })aid  a  pilgrimage 
to  the  place  where  lie  had  struy-o-led  for  his  life,  his 
lands,  and  his  home. 

By  the  train  that  Ave  had  often  journeyed  by  in 
other  years  we  ventured  further  south  and  booked 
for  Bristol.  Reading  was  soon  dropped  to  watch  the 
charming  country  Hitting  past.  Here  come,  and  swiftly 
go,  Combermere  obelisk.  Battlefield  Church,  the  towers 
and  spires  of  Shrewsbury,  the  white-faced  cattle  under 
the  big  trees,  the  lichened  roofs  of  homely  farms,  the 
encircling  hills  of  CJhurch  Stretton,  a  lonely  heron 
fishing  in  the  On,  the  ghostly  towers  of  Stokesay,  the 
stately  fane  of  Ludlow,  the  hop-yards  and  orchards 
of  Hereford,  the  black  mountains  of  Radnorshire, 
the  grimy  works  whose  smoke  now  spoils  the  })leasant 
hills  of  Wales,-  and  then,  with  snorts  and  jerks,  we 
rush  into  the  darkness  of  the  Severn  Tunnel,  to  emerge 
again  into  daylight  for  the  short  run  to  Bristol. 

Gladly  we  leave  the  train  and  take  to  the  cycles  and 
the  road.      Progress  is  slow,  for  the  hills  are  so  steep 


WELLS  3 

we  cannot  ride  either  up  or  down.  The  makers  of  the 
road  do  not  seem  to  have  tried  to  make  o-ood  o-radients, 
or  to  have  cut  oW  tlie  tops  of  the  Httle  steep  hills  and 
filled  in  the  vallevs.  Li  two  hours  we  had  barelv  o-one 
ten  miles,  having  walked  quite  as  far  as  we  had  ridden. 
It  was  wearvino-  after  the  lono-  railwav  iournev.  but 
gradually  we  rise  on  to  the  Mendips,  where  the  air  is 
sharp  and  the  roads  are  better.  They  are  bounded 
with  low  stone  walls  brilliant  with  the  flowers  of  the 
golden  stonecrop.  All  around  are  fine  views  of  rolling 
hills  and  dales.  Li  the  exhilarating  air  fatigue  wears 
off,  and  the  last  three  miles  to  Wells  give  us  the  best 
and  perhaps  the  longest  free-wheeling  that  we  had  ever 
had.  The  descent  beo-ios  on  hio-h  gfround,  and  is  not 
too  steep.  At  first  it  is  almost  above  the  trees  ;  then 
through  the  pine-woods  with  their  refreshing  aroma  ; 
then  through  the  beeches,  where  the  air  becomes  heavier, 
the  woods  more  luxuriant,  without  a  check  we  glide  for 
miles  right  into  the  clean  little  city  of  Wells. 

Wells  is  one  of  the  few  towns  or  cities  in  England 
that  may  be  said  to  be  finished.  Of  course  the  cathedral 
is  not  finished.  Few  churches  are  luckv  enoup-h  to 
escape  the  restorer,  and  scaffolding  hides  the  fine  west 
front  of  the  cathedral.  Whether  they  are  merely 
scrubbing  or  whitewashing  the  statues  or  taking  the 
birds'  nests  we  could  not  properly  see.  Li  the  tinv  citv 
itself  there  do  not  seem  to  be  any  new  buildings,  or  any 
toil  or  traffic.  Xo  one  appears  to  hurry  ;  it  would  be 
undignified  to  run  ;  all  men  move  slowly  and  respectably 
as  if  thev  were  fullv  conscious  of  behaving  decorously 
in  the  shadow  of  the  great  cathedral  which  dominates 
the  town. 

There  are  many  interestiuir  thino-s  to  note.  Quaint 
old  houses  built  of  whitish  stone,  many  of  them 
having  little  gardens  where  the  escallonia,  magnolia, 
and  arbutus  flourish.  On  almost  every  wall  the  purple 
valerian    flow^ers    in  profusion.       The    gable  of  a  house 


4  PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

supports  a  fig-tree  full  of  tigs,  and  altogether  the  vege- 
tation is  of  a  brighter  and  more  vivid  hue  than  our 
northern  clime  will  give  to  us.  Round  the  bishop's 
palace  is  a  moat,  the  largest  we  had  ever  seen,  with 
clean  water  slowlv  flowino-  round.  ( )n  the  outer  side 
of  the  moat,  by  the  water's  edge  and  standing  close 
together,  are  enormous  trees,  whose  long  branches 
stretch    across    the    broad    water,    the    raised    footpath 


THE    Mf)AT 


beneath  them,  and  the  road  beyond.  Strolling  round 
about  we  seek  for  the  famous  Vicars'  Close,  a  broad  street 
of  old-fashioned  homes,  whose  gardens  nearly  meet  at 
the  footpath  in  the  centre,  with  an  elaborate  stone  gate- 
house and  arch  across  the  street  which  se})arates  it  from 
the  cathedral.  This  private  way  across  tlie  |)u1jlic  road 
is  a  continuation  of  the  cathedral,  adjoining  the  very 
handsoiT^  chapter-house  and  extraordinary  stairway  of 
stone.  Whetlier  seen  fi'om  the  inside  or  the  outside, 
these  buildings  are  verv  curious  and  beautiful.      There 


GATEHOUSE   BETWEEN   THE   BISHOPS   PALACE   AND   THE   MAEMTT-PLACE,    WELLS 


A    2 


6  PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD    HOMES 

is  the  grand  west  front  of  the  cathedral  risiiii;'  from 
its  spacious  lawn  with  tine  encircling  trees  :  the  road 
alongside  with  (juaint  old  churchy  houses,  the  homes 
of  vicars  clioral,  deans,  or  other  dignitaries,  all  bound 
too-ether  bv  the  arched  gatewav  and  the  roofed  bridue 
of  stone,  while  ancient  figures,  large  as  life,  move  on  the 
cathedral's  northern  wall  to  strike  the  Heetino-  hours  on 
a  wondrously  elaborated  clock. 

We  wander  round  the  spacious  market-place,  with  its 
gushing  fountain  ;  note  old  buildings  in  the  Crown  Inn 
yard  ;  pass  under  the  stately  gatehouse,  to  find  we  are  by 
the  bishop's  moat  again,  and  beyond  it  is  an  enormous 
barn,  centuries  old,  apparently  used  now  as  a  gym- 
nasium and  drill-shed.  Further  on  is  an  open  park,  and 
in  the  gathering  gloom  we  linger  to  listen  to  the  night- 
ingale, who  gives  a  trill  or  two  to  make  us  wish  for  more, 
then  quietly  goes  to  sleep,  leaving  us  to  do  the  same. 

The  next  morning  was  wet,  and  we  soon  found  the 
most  comfortable  place  at  Wells  in  which  to  spend  a 
rainy  day  is  the  beautiful  cathedral.  We  explored 
it  up  and  down,  even  to  the  crypt  and  the  wonderful 
chapter-house.  The  inverted  arches  under  the  central 
tower  are  very  strikinpf,  with  manv  other  thinirs  more 
than  we  can  tell.  Then  we  mustered  up  courage  to  cross 
the  broad  moat  and  bang  at  the  massive  door  in  the  forti- 
fied gateway  of  the  bishop's  palace.  An  old  soldier  was 
on  guard,  \\-ho  let  us  have  a  })eep  at  a  charming  garden, 
wdth  one  of  the  oldest  houses  in  England  beyond  the 
spacious  lawn.  Crumljling  ruins,  stately  towers,  deserted 
halls,  stand  all  around.  Amona"  them  fiourishes  luxuriant 
vegetation,  trees  and  shrubs  unknown  to  me.  This  might 
be  Paradise  if  some  ano-el  were  to  show  us  round. 

We  are  told  that  the  bishop  and  his  lady  are  at 
home  and  must  not  ])e  disturbed  ;  special  leave  should 
be  had  for  cameras,  the  grass  is  very  wet,  and  there 
are  other  objections,  all  of  which  melt  away  before  the 
magic  talisman.     The  tongue  of  our  guide  is  urdoosened. 


FOETIFIED   HOME   OF   THE   BISHOP     7 

He  is  a  Crimean  veteran  who  discourses  on  liistorv 
with  the  dates  of  various  ruins,  of  the  trees  witli 
their  names,  of  lords,  ladies,  fossils,  bishops,  ruins,  and 
bygones  as  if  he  knew  them  all  and  liad  watched  many 


THE   GATEHOUSK   ()F    THE   BISHOP  S    PALACE 


an 


idle  pageant  pass.  Here  is  a  thorn-tree  with 
authentic  pedigree  from  tlie  Holv  Thorn  tliat  blossomed 
at  the  Nativitv.  the  staff  of  Arimathean  Joseph  from 
the  Holy  Land.  When  I  remark  that  it  is  flowering 
now  in  June,  he  calmly  answers,  "  Come  at  Christmas ; 


•#»*■ ,  *^5 


'>i^^ 


■?v- . . ..  -■'♦•' 


THE   GARDEN   OF   THE   BISHOP  9 

see  it  then,"  and  I  feel  that  he  has  been  schooled  by 
the  priests.  Xear  it  grew  the  finest  specimen  known 
of  the  Ailanthus,  the  Chinese  tree  of  heaven,  but  the 
winds  of  heaven  in  the  autunni  blew  it  down,  and 
in  the  Fichl  newspaper  the  bishop  asked  counsel  of 
common  laymen  as  to  the  heavenly  wood.  Here  also 
flourish  the  royal  tree  of  Japan,  a  Catalpa  from  the 
Mississippi,  a  pomegranate,  shrubs  and  climbers  quite 
unknown  to  me,  and  on  the  ruined  banqueting  hall, 
now  open  to  the  sky,  is  the  finest  crojD  of  figs  I  ever  saw- 
The  green  grass  p-rows  over  this  great  hall,  and 
climbers  climb  and  twist  among  the  weathered  stones 
of  towers  and  ^\•indows.  It  is  a  beautiful  memorial 
of  priestly  pride  and  episcopal  revelry.  Bishop  Burnell 
l)uilt  it  in  the  thirteenth  century,  and  Bisho^j  Barlow 
destroved  it  in  the  sixteenth.  Older  than  it  are  parts 
of  the  present  palace,  built  bv  Bishop  Josceline  seven 
hundred  years  ago,  and  not  yet  worn  away.  Ralph  of 
Shrewsbury  made  the  moat  and  all-encircling  massive 
wall  in  the  fourteenth.  Centuries  seem  to  linger 
lovingly  here.  The  years  may  come  and  go,  as  in 
our  busy  cities,  but  decay  and  waste  look  idly  on. 
Hall  or  palace,  home  after  home,  patched,  restored, 
rebuilt,  or  ruined,  the  rain  comes  softly  down  on  all 
alike,  the  works  of  the  just  and  the  unjust.  From  a 
terrace  raised  aloft  above  the  garden  one  may  see  them 
all,  and  also  see  beyond  the  battlemented  walls  the 
open  country  and  the  distant  hills.  Here  Bishop  Ken 
paced  to  and  fro  as  he  composed  those  well-known 
hvnnis  for  mornino-  and  evenino-  : — 

'*  Awake,  my  soul,  and  with  the  sun 
Thy  daily  stage  of  duty  run." 

"  Glory  to  Thee,  my  God,  this  night, 
For  all  the  blessings  of  the  light." 

Lesser  luminaries  than  a   bishop  might   compose  smooth 
verses   if  they   had    a    })lace    like   this    to    meditate    at 


31~H0iI>  KSS'S  STEPS 


THE   WATERS   OF   WELLS  13 

eventide.  Hifi'h  above  these  ruined  li(»ines  there  shine 
the  stately  towers  of  the  cathedral ;  all  around  them 
rushes  the  never-failing  waters  of  the  wells,  while  in 
the  garden   there  is  peace. 

From  these  wells,  the  fon.s  ef  <>ri(/n  of  the  little 
citv,  there  wells  np  a  bounteous  Hood  of  clear  \\'ater 
which  rolls  over  a  small  cascade,  then  i>-irdles  round 
the  palace,  filling  the  spacious  moat,  the  finest  moat 
in  England,  and  tlien.  till  recent  vears.  sup])li;:'d  the 
common  folk  with  all  they  needed  in  the  town.  ( )ur 
guide  says  these  wells  are  bottomless  ;  no  plummet  vet 
has  found  the  bottom,  and  the  water  comes  straight  up. 
When  I  ask  him  how  it  is  the  water  is  not  boiling 
hot,  he  seems  quite  shocked  at  levity  on  a  sacred 
subject  in  a  bishop's  garden.  Then  it  occurs  to  me 
what  a  tremendous  power  this  supplv  of  water  to  the 
city  must  have  given  to  the  bishops  in  the  olden  time. 
If  some  poor  sinners  lacked  faith  or  were  too  ardent 
for  reform,  the  bishops  merely  cut  tlieir  water  off  and 
jDromptly  brought  them  to  believe  in  anything. 

As  the  day  wore  on  the  weather  went  worse.  A 
north-east  wind  brought  gloomier  skies  witli  fitful 
storms.  The  roads  were  bad  and  the  light  was  bad, 
so  we  decided  to  leave  our  things  at  the  inn  and  go 
bv  train  to  Glastonbury  to  wander  round  that  famous 
land,  on  foot. 

The  utter  ruin  that  has  befallen  the  famous  and 
once  magnificent  abbey  of  Glastonl^ury  has  left  so  little 
for  the  pilgrim  of  to-day  to  look  upon  that  one  wonders 
how  so  great  a  destruction  could,  in  England,  come  to 
that  shrine  where  her  Christianity  began  and  where 
for  ages  her  kings  and  mighty  men  were  buried.  The 
scantv  remnants  of  the  ^eat  abbev  are  an  exceedino-lv 
lofty  corner  of  the  central  tower,  broken  off  about  the 
chancel  arch,  and,  on  the  southern  side,  the  pointed 
windows  with  some  ornamented  bits  of  wall.  The 
twentv    columns    of    the    lonof  -  drawn  -  out    nave    have 


TJIK   CATHEDRAL,    WKLl  S 


GLASTONBURY  15 

vanished,  and  beyond,  where  once  the  eastern  wnidow 
stood,  a  mansion  jars  on  one's  senses  as  an  incongruous 
receiver  of  stolen  goods.  Even  the  ruins  of  St.  Joseph's 
or  the  Lady  Chapel  seem  to  be  utterly  neglected, 
although  it  has  been  often  extolled  as  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  or  richly  sculptured  chapels  in  the  world. 
On  that  site  have  been  chapels  for  nigh  two  tliousand 
years,  the  earliest,  primitive  enough,  of  wattles  and 
sticks.  That  was  encased  and  added  to,  but  in  11 84 
the  abbey  and  all  were  l)urnt,  and  this  marvel  of 
carved  stone  was  begun.  Below  It  is  the  well,  the 
usual  fountain  of  clear  water,  to  which  all  our  ancient 
churches  came. 

The  wonderful  history  of  this  place  cannot  now  be 
lost,  as  the  stately  buildings  themselves  are  lost.  It 
may  be  hard  to  tell  truth  from  untruth,  actual  fact 
from  more  or  less  mysterious  legend,  but  for  a  few 
rough  outlines  of  what  has  here  happened  let  us  take 
the  following.  Tradition  said  that  the  apostles  Philip 
and  James  came  to  this  island  sanctuary.  There  were 
no  doubts  in  the  belief  that  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  who 
begged  the  body  of  Christ  for  burial  in  his  own  garden, 
fled  here  with  the  Holy  Grail,  the  chalice  which  held 
the  last  drops  of  the  Holy  Blood,  invisible  to  all  l^ut 
the  pure,  and  the  Holy  Thorn  which  grew  and  flourished, 
always  blossoming  at  the  Nativity.  The  first  abbot  was 
St.  Patrick,  who  was  said  to  be  i  1 1  years  old  when  he 
died,  and  was  buried  here  in  472.  That  seems  very 
early  in  the  dark  ages.  Then  came  other  saints  whose 
names  we  have  heard  before,  Bridget  and  David.  The 
latter  gave  a  splendid  sapphire  to  the  abbey,  and  when 
the  authorities  prudently  asked  the  Welsh  saint  where 
he  got  it  from,  his  reply  was,  "  It  came  down  from 
heaven,"  an  answer  w^iich  enormously  increased  its 
value  and  his  fame.  But  another  Welshman  came  in 
time  and  stole  it  back  again,  adding  murder  to  his 
crime.      He  was  the  great  Defender  of  the  Faith  who 


^^ 


GLASTONBURY    ABBEY 


ST.    JOSEPH'S   CHAPEL,    GLASTOXBURY 


B 


i8         PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

took  the  je\yels  from  the  house  of  his  God  to  deck  the 
attune  of  his  harlots. 

Twelve  hundred  years  ago  King  Ine,  the  Saxon, 
built  a  church  of  stone  wliere  the  British  had  had 
theirs  of  timber,  and  here  was  the  grave  of  Arthur, 
the  semi-mvthic  hero  of  romance  whom  poets  rave 
about,  the  flower  of  kings,  who  was  to  rise  again  to 
lead  the  Briton  in  triumph  over  the  hated  English. 
Centuries  after  he  had  passed  came  Norman  kings  of 
England  to  satisfy  themselves  by  sight  and  touch  that 
he  and  Guinevere  with  their  £:olden  hair  were  really 
in  their  grave  at  Glastonbury,  and  the  heir  of  the 
Plantagenets  received  the  name  of  Arthur  tliat  he 
mitrht  be  the  founder  of  a  line  of  British  kino-s.  But  his 
uncle  John  killed  him,  and  his  mother  CVnistance  cried  — 

"  Grief  tills  tlie  room  up  of  my  absent  child, 
Lies  in  his  bed,  walks  iip  and  down  with  me ; 
Puts  on  his  pretty  looks,  repeats  his  words. 

Oh  !  my  boy,  my  Arthur,  my  fair  son  I 

]My  widow's  conifc  rt  and  my  sorrow-'s  cure  !  " 

The  first  of  the  Tudor  kings,  being  of  British  race,  tried 
the  name  again  and  called  his  tirst-born  Arthur,  but  they 
married  the  lad  too  young,  and  so  he  died.  Many  years 
afterwards  the  name  did  revive  in  the  son  of  a  family  who 
long  ago  had  settled  in  the  district,  for  Arthur  Wellesley 
(or  Wesley),  Duke  of  Wellington  (Avhom  I  remember  see- 
ing in  the  streets  of  Manchester),  made  it  popular  again. 
Many  years  after  Arthur,  with  all  the  imaginary 
immaculate  knights  of  the  Round  Table,  had  gone  to 
"  where  beyond  these  voices  there  is  peace,"  a  more 
real  man  and  possibly  usefid  saint  was  born  near 
Glastonbury  and  called  Dunstan.  Educated  at  the 
abbey,  he  became  a  dreamer,  wanderer,  outlaw,  hermit, 
musician,  artistic  worker  in  metals,  visionary  wrestler 
with  the  devil,  abbot,  teacher,  statesman,  archbishop, 
almost  king — a  great  ruler  of  men  though  never  popular. 


ST.    DUNSTAN  19 

He  died  at  Canterbury,  and  was  there  buried,  a.d.  988, 
just  as  the  fears  of  the  approaching  millennium  were 
convulsingf  Christendom.  Two  hundi-ed  years  after  his 
death,  the  abbey  at  Glastonbury,  with  all  its  con- 
tents, was  burnt  even  to  the  bones  of  the  saints.  So 
other  relics  had  to  be  invented,  and  three  centuries 
of  wordy  warfare  went  on  between  Canterbury  and 
Glastonbury  as  to  who  had  got  Dunstan.  As  the  fame 
of  his  relics  at  Glastonbury  increased,  they  proved  at 
Canterbury  that  his  orio-inal  s^rave  had  never  been 
opened  before,  and  there  he  w^as.  In  our  days  St. 
Dunstan's  fame  mainly  rests  on  his  feat  of  seizing  the 
devil  by  the  nose  with  his  tongs  while  metaphorically  he 
twisted  the  old  o-entleman's  tail.  We  tried  to  emulate 
his  good  deeds  when  we  were  boys,  but  only  got  into 
trouble.  There  is  still  preserved  in  the  Bodleian 
Library  at  Oxford  a  book  of  his  with  scraps  of  writing 
in  Greek  and  Latin,  and  British  or  Welsh. 

The  glories  of  this  great  burial-place  for  generations 
of  kings  and  saints  increased  until  Glastonbury  was 
one  of  the  finest  and  wealthiest  relio-ious  houses  in  the 
land.  When  the  great  robbery  came,  it  had  eleven 
thousand  ounces  of  plate  besides  the  gold  and  the 
jewels.  The  shekels  in  the  treasury,  the  costly  furni- 
ture, the  rich  vestments,  all  were  declared  to  be  meet 
only  for  the  king's  majesty  and  for  no  one  else.  There- 
fore, the  king's  jninister,  Cromwell,  wrote  an  order,  of 
which  this  is  a  facsimile  copy — 


(FROM    ABBOT    GASQUET's    HISTORY) 


— "  Item  :  The  Abbott  of  Glaston  to  (be)  tryed  at  Glaston 
and  also  executyd  there   wt  his  comply cys."     So  they 


20        PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

condemned  thoni  first,  then  tried  them,  havuig  ah'eady 
£^ot  the  hurdles  and  the  pitch  and  the  old  abbot,  who 
was  eighty  and  sickly,  also  his  accomplices,  and  without 
spending  much  time  on  them,  dragged  them  up  "  Torre 
hyll  ' — that  is,  the  high  Tor  whence  all  the  country-side 
for  many  miles  could  see  the  "execucyon."  All  this 
was  done  that  the  courtiers  might  grab  the  spoils,  and 
the  pride  and  power  of  the  great  head  of  the  Church 
be  increased  ;  and  now,  where  are  they  all  ? 

"  The  seyde  Abbot's  bodye  being  devyded  into 
foure  partes,  and  the  hedde  stryken  off,  whereof  oone 
(piarter  stondythe  at  Wells,  another  at  Bathe,  and  at 
Ylchester  and  Bridgwater  the  rest,  and  his  hedde  uppon 
the  Abbey  Gate  of  Glastonburye."  What  a  glimpse  of 
Merry  Eni2:land  in  ve  olden  time  ! 

The  celebrated  Holy  Thorn  that  blossomed  at  the 
Nativity,  what  became  of  it  '.  There  was  proof  positive 
the  wicked  thing  flowered  at  Christmas,  so  a  zealous 
reformer  clio|)ped  the  poor  tree  down  as  if  it  had  done 
griev^ous  sin,  and  all  we  know  is  that  he  gashed  his  leg 
when  chopping,  and  a  sjilinter  hit  him  in  the  eye.  Any 
schoolboy  would  probably  say,  "  Serve  him  jolly  well 
riofht." 

Bound  about  the  melancholy  ruins  we  wander  up  to 
our  knees  in  the  long,  wet  grass — rich  green  grass,  rank 
and  luxuriant.  Is  the  dust  of  heroes,  martyrs,  saints, 
or  kings  better  for  manure  than  that  of  connnon  folk  ? 
The  associations  and  memories  of  two  thousand  years  of 
history  seem  to  be  worth  nothing  here.  The  first  home 
for  Christian  worship  in  our  land  or  empire  lies  deso- 
late ;  the  flycatcher  nests  in  the  renmants  of  its  con- 
secrated walls  ;  the  shepster  chatters  and  scolds  from 
her  cranny  in  the  broken  sculptures  ;  the  carved  stones 
have  been  taken  for  hovels,  pigsties,  or  advertised  at 
sixpence  per  cart  load  to  mend  the  dirty  roads.  Let  us 
go  hence. 

That  wonderful    building,   the   abbot's  kitchen,   was 


"''  'IIP' 


THE    ABBOTS    KITCHEN,    GLASIONBURY 


B  2 


22 


PILGRIMAGES   T(J   OLD   HOMES 


the  greatest  surprise  to  nie  at  Glastonbury.  In  tlie 
middle  of  a  field  is  a  beautiful  stone  hall,  forty  feet 
square  at  the  bottom.  Inside,  each  of  the  corners  has 
been  made  into  a  fireiilace,  h'lg-  enouo-h  to  roast  an  ox 
whole.  The  chimney  flues  from  these  four  irreat  vaulted 
fireplaces  turn  inwards  ;  the  four  corners  of  the  square 
are  cut  off,  and  the  building  becomes  octagonal,  witli  eight 
ribs  of  stone  to  strengthen  it.      Then    it  slopes  u|)\vard 


FIREPLACE 


acutely  pyramidal  to  a  doul)le  lantern  seventy-two  feet 
from  the  ground.  Even  the  roof  w^as  of  bevelled  stone, 
all  kept  in  good  repair,  and  very  interesting,  though  it 
did  rather  shock  me  to  see  the  key  to  it  that  we  had 
borrow^ed  had  been  made  in  America.  The  jackdaws 
had  worked  so  hard  at  brincrino-  sticks  for  the  nests 
they  could  not  build  in  the  lantern  or  flues  that  there 
was  enough  for  a  bonfire  in  the  centre  of  the  hall.  The 
mournful  effigy  of  an  al:)l)ot  looked  sadly  down  on  the 
vanished  glory,  ;in(l   in   the  gloom   I  tried  to  picture  to 


THE   FEASTS   OF   THE   CLERGY         23 

myself  the  good  old  times  when  two  or  three  oxen  and 
as  many  sheep  were  being  roasted  whole  for  the  feasts 
known  as  the  church-ales.  In  the  midst  of  a  burning 
fiery  furnace  half  inked  scullions  or  serfs  would  turn  the 
gigantic  spits  ;  perspiring  monks  would  do  the  basting, 
while  the  superior  clergy  would  keep  an  eye  on  the 
toothsome  undercut  of  the  loin  for  their  ow)i  and   the 


TITH  EBA  UN  ,    U  l.A.STON  HU  IIY 


lord  abbot's  table;  while  at  times,  it  was  said,  live 
hundred  pilgrims  or  paupers  waited   for  the  scraps. 

Another  great  monument  of  the  feasting  and  plenty 
of  the  religious  houses  still  exists  in  the  enormous  tithe- 
barn.  It  is  of  stone,  cruciform  in  shape,  ninety  feet 
long,  sixty  wide,  and  thirty-six  high,  ornamented  like 
a  church,  and  biir  enoufjh  for  all  the  horses  and  the 
waoffTons  in  the  country  to  drive  in  fullv  laden,  turn 
round,  and  come  empty  out. 

Having  seen  the  wonderful  kitchen  and  the  gigantic 


24         PILGRIMAGES    TO   OLD   HOMES 

storehouse,  let  us  visit  another  monument  showing  the 
care  our  forefathers  took  in  providing  for  their  daily 
bread.  In  the  olden  time  pilgrims  were  entertained  at 
the  abbot's  expense.  That  was  equivalent  to  the  rate- 
payers' expense  of  the  present  day  ;  but  the  only  way  in 
which  we  can  now  enjoy  their  hospitality  is  to  go  into 
the  tramp  ward. 

Within  the  precincts  of  the  Abbey  of  Glastonbury 
there  was  a  guest-house,  or  hostel  for  pilgrims,  but  the 
crowds  who  came  increased  so  much  that  Abbot  Selwood 
built  and  gave  another  hostel  across  the  road  from  the 
abbey  gates,  and  that  identical  house  is  still  standing  as 
an  inn  or  hostel  after  more  than  four  hundred  years  of 
use.  Statements  are  often  made  about  inns  which  are 
not  correct,  but  the  age  of  this  richly-ornamented  stone 
building  is  plain  on  the  face  of  it,  and  it  was  originally 
built  for  an  inn.  The  arms  of  Edward  the  Fourth  are 
over  the  door  with  other  shields,  and  between  each  of 
the  crenellated  battlements  was  a  statue  of  an  apostle — 
twelve  apostles  all  in  a  row,  watching  who  went  into  the 
pul)lic-house.  Only  one  of  them  is  there  now.  It  may 
i)e  the  police  objected  to  them.  They  make  such  curious 
objections  nowadays  to  inns.  The  vaulted  cellars  are 
the  same  as  they  were,  but  are  probably  emptier  than 
they  used  to  be.  One  of  them  contains  a  well  of  clear 
water,  which  is  useful  in  many  ways  ;  for  tradition  says 
it  was  used  as  a  cell  for  the  penance  of  those  taken  in  the 
oldest  and  most  respectable  of  sins,  for  as  the  water  ran 
all  over  the  Ha^iied  floor  and  there  were  not  anv  seats 
the  sinners  could  be  left  to  cool  and  repent. 

As  bona-fide  pilgrims  we  took  our  ease  in  a  real 
original  pilgrim's  inn  where  the  charges  have  advanced 
with  the  times.  We  also  visited  the  charming  little 
museum  where  the  treasures  of  the  lately  discovered 
lake- village  are  preserved.  Professor  Bovd  Dawkins 
had  urtred  me  not  to  miss  it  or  the  site  of  the  lonof- 
forgotten     English     Venice.       It     was     certainly    very 


THE   PILGraM'S    HOSTEL,    GLASTONBURY 


26         PILGIIIxAIAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

interestiiiii-- local  relics  of  all  nires  leixiblv  labelled,  with- 
out  rubbish.  Here  is  a  pilgrim's  staff  that  was  taken 
from  beside  a  skeleton  in  a  stone  cotKn  in  the  abbey. 
It  seems  to  be  from  foiu'  to  five  feet  Ions:,  and  to  have 
been  broken  and  spliced  more  than  once.  As  it  is  in 
a  glass  case  I  could  not  be  sure  of  the  wood.  It  may 
be  oak,  ash,  or  crab,  but  is  probably  thorn — possibly 
from  one  of  the  offspring  of  the  original  Holy  Thorn. 
There  is  no  record  of  its  work,  but  we  may  siu-mise  it 
was  a  companion  to  its  master  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the 
Holy  Land.  Doubtless  he  trudged  tlie  weary  way, 
painfully  grasping  his  cherished  staff  in  heat  or  cold, 
hunger  or  thirst,  fog  or  storm.  When  his  wanderings 
are  done,  the  journey  ended,  the  victory  won,  and  he 
gains  his  home  again — what  hath  he  at  last  ?  A 
orave  in  Glastonbury  Abbey,  with  his  treasured  staff 
beside  him.  There  he  rests  in  peace  for  ages,  until  he 
and  his  are  all  forgotten,  and  modern  Christians  violate 
his  grave,  taking  the  well-worn  staff  from  the  well-worn 
bon€S  that  they  may  show  it  for  twopences.  What  did 
they  do  with  the  bones  {  They  should  be  worth  some- 
thing, if  only  for  manure. 

Other  bones  and  skulls  ara  here,  possibly  a  thousand 
years  older  than  the  other  long-forgotten  ones  ;  for  they 
come  from  the  still  older,  prehistoric  village,  where 
they  adorned  the  palisades  around  the  island  homes. 
One  of  these  heads  has  a  big  crack,  showing  where 
sword  or  battle-axe  ended  its  aching  for  ever.  Another 
looks  good  enough  to  have  been  the  liead  of  Joseph  of 
Arimathea  ;  for  if  he  came  to  these  primitive  barbarians 
telling  them  of  a  risen  Christ  and  the  strange  doctrine 
of  love  to  one's  enemies,  what  more  likely  than  that  they 
should  kill  the  teacher  of  what,  to  them,  was  dangerous 
folly,  and  stick  up  his  head  on  a  spike,  as  even  the  Chris- 
tian teachers  did  in  recent  times  '.  For  after  seventeen 
hundred  and  forty-five  years  of  their  teaching  the  head 
of  a  relative  of  mine   was   spiked    on    Temple    Bar    in 


■       PREHTSTOlUf'    irOMES    ON    PILES       27 

London,  by  order  of  tlie  head  of  the  ( 'hin'cli,  because 
he  upheld  the  cause  of  the  rightful  kini;-  of  Englmid 
against  the  German  George, 

To  return  to  our  dried  bones.  Some  of  them  show 
what  the  epicures  of  those  days  ate.  The  familiar 
swine  and  cattle  are  there  ;  also  stags,  roe-deer,  otter, 
and  the  long-vanished  beaver.  Swans  and  cranes 
appear  to  have  been  common  Inrds,  and  even  the  strange 
pelican.  Thousands  of  hard  clay  pellets  tliat  would 
be  thrown  from  slings  at  these  various  wildfo^vl  are 
there,  with  weapons  and  tools  in  stone,  bone,  horn, 
wood,  bronze,  and  iron.  Pottery  and  glass,  rings  and 
l)rooches,  remnants  of  looms,  crucibles,  (pierns — all  show 
these  long-forgotten  folk  were  fairly  civilised,  and  with  a 
last  look  at  the  famous  canoe,  eighteen  feet  of  an  oak-tree's 
trunk  hollowed  out  into  a  substantial  boat,  we  hurry  on. 

Downhill,  across  the  moors,  as  they  term  the 
marshes  here,  we  started  for  our  tramp  to  the  long- 
buried  dwellings  that  once  were  built  on  ])iles  amid 
the  swamp.  The  rain  was  ceasing,  and  the  light  of 
midsummer  should  not  fail  for  hours  or  I  dare  not 
have  ventured  over  miles  of  morass.  Ruins  of  the 
abbey  showed  in  walls  along  the  lane,  and  mullioned 
windows  let  in  light  to  a  cart-shed,  but  soon  we  were 
in  a  land  of  dvkes  and  ditches,  deep  and  Ijroad,  in  all 
directions  among  the  flat  fields,  with  rows  of  pollard 
willows  as  the  only  guides  to  keep  the  wearied  traveller 
on  his  way  when  another  inch  or  two  of  water  hid  the 
road  from  the  deep  blackness  tliat  bounded  it  on 
either  side.  What  an  impassable,  impregnable  country 
this  must  once  have  been  ! 

We  found  the  site  of  the  long-buried,  jn-ehistoric 
British  village,  the  forgotten  homes  of  the  aborigines 
of  our  fen.  Circular  mounds  very  slightly  raised  above 
the  fields  are  all  there  is  to  see,  but  every  mound  once 
held  a  hut  built  on  ])iles  of  oak  above  the  water,  pro- 
bably    of    wickerwork    all    daubed    with     clav.        There 


28         PILGKIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

were  sixty  or  seventy  of  these  huts,  with  floors  of  clay 
in  layers  to  the  depth  of  five  feet.  They  were  eighteen 
to  tliirty-live  feet  in  diameter,  and  about  six  feet  high. 
They  were  probably  dome-shaped,  with  a  central  post, 
and  thatched  with  reed.  Since  they  were  l)uilt  the 
peat  has  accunudated  around  tliem  to  the  de})th  of 
six  to  ten  feet.  There  is  now  sixteen  feet  of  peat 
below  the  level  of  the  field,  and  the  bottom  of  the  peat 
is  said  to  l)e  about  "mean  tide  level''  of  the  sea,  which 
is  fourteen  miles  distant.  Where  or  how  could  they 
bury  their  dead  {  Did  they  sink  them  for  tlie  eels 
and  the  pike?  Their  island  homes  were  safe  refuge 
where  men  could  not  walk  and  l)oats  could  not  float. 
Sour  buttercu})s  grow  rank  over  them  now,  and  in 
wet  herbage  to  my  waist  I  wandered  round  a  lonely 
heron  fishing  where  our  web-footed  forefathers  dwelt. 

Carefully  feeling  my  way  back  to  the  road  and  X, 
who  sat  upon  a  gate,  we  tramp  on.  A  drowned  gold- 
finch on  the  path  reminds  me  how  very  rare  those 
showy  birds  are  now.  Starlings  nest  in  the  pollard 
willows,  and  all  around  a  continuous  distant  monotone 
of  cuckoo  sounds.  In  the  wet  an  untended  cow  has 
cast  forth  lier  burden  and  carefully  licks  her  new- 
born calf.  E-ats  dive  in  the  water  at  every  few  steps, 
and  on  the  bank  a  duck  cowers  over  lier  brood  ready 
to  tumble  all  into  safer  hiding.  As  tlie  daylight  slowly 
fades,  innumerable  bats  flit  all  around  in  constantly 
increasing  numbers.  For  two  hoin-s  we  go  tramping 
on  until  we  reach  the  little  Nornjan  church  of  Goldney 
U})on  higher  ground,  and  can  look  back  to  where  the 
Tor  and  Tower  of  Glastonbury  gleam  white  against 
black  clouds  gathering  rovmd  the  misty  fen  : — 

"  The  island  valley  of  Aviliui), 
Where  falls  not  hail,  or  rain,  or  any  sn(j\v, 
Xor  ever  wind  l)lo\vs  loudly  ;  but  it  lies 
Deep-meadow'd,  happy,  fair  with  orchard  lawns, 
And  lju\vei-v  hollows  cnjwned  with  sununcr  sea." 


A   STORMY   SUNDAY  29 

Fine  poetic  language  of  his  lordship,  the  late  Poet 
Laureate.  It  may  be  poetic  licence,  for  whicli  we 
use  a  harsher  word  as  the  north-easter  howls  and 
shrieks  throuMi  us  with  drenchino;  sleet  and  rain  in 
the  bahny  month  of  June.  He  that  endureth  over- 
cometh.      We  must  tramj)  back  and  go  to  bed. 

It  rained  all  night,  and  the  next  morning,  Sunday, 
seemed  wetter  than  ever.  As  Monday  was  little  better, 
we  abandoned  hope  and  fled  homewards.  Those  three 
days  made  a  record  for  rainfall  in  that  part  of  the 
country.  It  was  said  that  six  inches  of  rain  fell  in 
the  upper  Tliames  valley,  and  the  cricket  ground  at 
Bath  was  three  feet  under  water.  At  Wells,  where 
we  were,  the  storms  from  the  north-east  were  almost 
incessant,  and  as  the  Assizes  were  being  holden  in  the 
city  the  little  procession  of  the  civic  dignitaries  was 
rather  damped.  I  determined  to  go  to  the  cathedral 
service,  but  X  objected  to  Popish  processions.  We 
had  come  to  the  parting  of  the  ways,  and  for  the  first 
time  we  parted.  Without  attempting  any  description 
of  the  stately,  beautiful  Cathedral  of  Wells,  I  may 
say  that  the  chancel  or  choir  is  like  a  church  within 
the  greater  church,  and  at  its  portals,  where  many 
were  being  turned  away,  I  ventured  to  ask  if  they 
could  And  me  a  seat.  The  man's  answer  surprised 
me  :  "  Yes,  sir  ;  I  will  take  you  to  a  stall."  Goodness 
knows  who  he  mistook  me  for,  but  grey  homespun 
seemed  rather  out  of  place  under  a  canopy  of  sculptured 
stone  in  ample  seat  of  carved  oak. 

There  was  a  blare  of  trumpets,  and  all  the  rulers  of 
the  little  city,  the  judges,  the  sherifls,  the  counsellors, 
the  treasurers,  the  clergy,  with  many  humbler  folk, 
came  in  long  procession  to  pniy  for  all  sorts  and 
conditions  of  men  and  to  look  at  one  another.  First 
were  a  few  specimens  of  the  majesty  of  the  law,  rather 
red  and  swelled  about  the  face.  Then  the  fire  brigade, 
very  uncomfortable  in  white  gloves.     A  mayor  in  fur. 


J 


o        PILGEIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 


Aldermen  in  robes.  Common  councillors  in  go-to-meet- 
ino-  black.  Choristers  and  vicars  choral.  The  Bishop, 
bsfore  whom  stalked  an  ascetic-looking  priest  grimly 
grasping  with  l)oth  hands  a  gigantic  crozier.  Beadles 
or  vergers  (I  hope  the  titles  of  all  these  gentlemen  are 
correctly  stated)  with  beautiful  little  silver  maces.  The 
blaze  of  the  High  Sheriffs  uniform,  and  last,  but  by 
no  means  least,  the  towering  colossal  figure  of  his 
Majesty's  Judge  of  Assize  in  full-bottomed  flapping  wig 
and  robes  of  scarlet  and  drab,  Mr.  Justice  Liwrance, 
six  feet  four  without  his  boots  and  wig. 

The  service  was  good,  and  the  sermon  was  about 
two  sparrows  being  sold  for  a  f  irthing,  though  according 
to  another  text  the  price  was  less  if  you  took  a  quantity, 
and  as  we  were  worth  many  sparrows  we  should  have 
better  houses,  which  was  all  right  with  a  little  more 
boiling  down.  I  have  somewhere  read  that  after  Sedge- 
moor,  the  last  battle  fought  in  England  and  near  to 
Wells,  some  of  the  prisoners  were  brought  to  the 
cathedral,  had  a  long  sermon  by  the  bishop  inflicted  on 
them,  and  were  then  hanged.  The  poor  men  might 
have  been  hanged  flrst.  They  had  thought  that  among 
the  manv  bastards  of  his  Sacred  Majesty,  the  Duke  of 
Monmouth  must  be  right,  for  had  he  not  cured  the 
King's  Evil  by  his  mere  touch  ? 

The  grand  procession  retired  with  the  pomp  and 
ceremony  with  which  it  came.  X  was  waiting  in  the 
nave,  where  he  had  been  wandering  about  all  the  time, 
until  he  found  a  seat  l^ehind  the  altar  where  he  thought 
no  one  saw  him  and  he  could  listen  to  the  music.  But 
he  knew  not  the  subtleties  of  the  satellites  of  tlie 
church.  They  had  marked  him  down  for  the  collection, 
followed  him  even  there,  and  actually  said  "  Thank  you, 
sir,"  when  they  got  something. 

After  lunch  the  deluge  still  descended,  and  in  despair 
we  went  to  church  again.  This  time  X  accompanied  me, 
though  it  was  diflicult  to  keep  him   still.      His  noncon- 


THE   TRIBUNAL,    GLASTONBURY 


32         PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

formist  conscience  fidgeted  at  the  elaborate  perform- 
ance ;  only  the  music  soothed  him,  for  music  is  one  of 
his  pleasures  and  indulgences.  The  anthem  was  Men- 
delssohn's "  Hear  my  prayer,  0  God."  Suddenly  he 
was  still,  with  keen  gaze  and  riveted  attention.  A 
boy's  voice  was  pouring  forth  aspirations  for  wings, 
for  the  wings  of  a  dove,  that  he  might  flee  far  away 
Mnd  be  at  rest,  for  ever  and  ever  at  rest.  The  storm 
might  rage  witliout,  but  as  those  flute  like  notes  rose 
amid  the  chiselled  arches  and  soared  aloft  where  on  the 
glistening  stone  the  jewelled  light  shone  through  glass 
of  hues  so  brilliant  that  none  can  equal  now,  dim  echoes 
seemed  to  come  from  far  on  high — "  for  ever  at  rest." 
Who  doth  not  long  for  rest  ?  Petty  troubles  seemed  to 
fade  and  fly  away.  Cares  and  worries  were  forgotten 
as  a  peaceful  calm  came  o'er  us.  The  nonconformist 
conscience  sighed  itself  to  rest. 


HOIiSlXGTON   CROSS 


WALFORD    HALL 


IN  the  springtide,  when  "  a  fuller  crimson  comes  upon 
the  roljin's  breast,"  I  was  bidden  to  a  bridal,  as 
the  old  folks  would  say,  or,  in  more  modern  phrase, 
invited  to  a  wedding.  An  old  bachelor  who  has 
survived  the  perils  of  life  and  goes  to  a  wedding  is 
like  the  skeleton  at  Grecian  feasts — an  object  of  pity, 
scorn,  and  dread.  It  is  better  for  all  parties  that  he 
should  abstain  ;  but  in  this  case  the  bride-ale  was  at 
an  old  home  where  many  generations  of  my  kindred 
have  lived  and  died,  and  therefore  I  obeved  the  summons 
as  to  a  gathering  of  the  clan. 

In  my  younger  days  there  were  several  old  homes 
of  the  family,  but  all  are  now  gone,  save  one.  Three 
ancient  halls  were  within  three  miles  of  one  another  in 
a  beautiful,  hilly,  fertile  part  of  north-western  Stafford- 
shire. Mees  Hall,  where  my  father  was  born,  is  now 
in  ruins,  and  "  the  desolate  home  of  my  fathers "  is 
one  of  the  most  picturesque  illustrations  in  my  last 
book.  Staiidon  Hall,  a  fine  old  black  and  white  house, 
is  mentioned  in  most  of  my  writings,  principally  in 
"  Folk-Lore."  Walford  Hall  is  still  tenanted  by  relations, 
and  four  generations  of  them  may  be  seen  there  now. 
In  it  my  father's  mother  was  born  ;  from  it  she  was 
married  at  seventeen,  and  to  it  she  returned  as  a  widow, 
to  die.  It  seems  stransre  to  our  hurryiniJ-  life  for 
any  one  to  be  born,  to  be  married,  and  (after  rearing 
a  dozen  children)  to  die  at  the  same  house. 

Walford    is    a  not    uncommon    name    in    England. 
I     believe    it   to    be    another    form   of   Wellford.      The 

33  ^ 


34        PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

nearest  field  to  this  iioiise  is  still  called  the  Wellyard, 
and  in  the  manor-rolls  is  mention  of  the  town  well. 
The  present  "town"  consists  of  three  farmhouses,  one 
of  them  having  part  of  the  moat  in  the  garden.  Fifty 
years  ago  I  helped  to  empty  one  of  the  little  pools, 
or  wells,  in  the  hillside  where  the  cattle  drank,  and  was 
astonished  to  capture  some  big  fish.      Two,  I  remember, 


STAXDON    HALL 


were  trout ;   the  one  I  took  to  Didsbury  weighing  three 
and  a  half  pounds. 

The  manor  of  Standon,  Stauiidon,  or  Stawn,  appears 
to  have  had  a  Vyse  of  Walford  as  bailift'  in  1422  ;  the 
rent  of  all  Walford  then  being  fifty-seven  shillings 
and  twopence.  In  1564  Humphrey  Vyse  of  Walford, 
gent.,  buys  the  manor,  and  for  about  two  hundred 
years  the  Vyse  family  hold  it  and  live  at  Walford  Hall, 
not  at  Standon  Hall.  Tlien  the  old  home  is  advertised 
for  sale  by  auction  ;  new  owners  and  new  tenants  come, 
and  shortly  the  })icturesque,  black  and  ^^•hite,  gabled 
Hall  with    its   dormer  windows  is   bricked   up   into   an 


AN   ANCIENT   COFFER  35 

ugly,    respectable,     Georgian    farmhouse,    the    goal    of 
many  a  pilgrimage. 

A  curious  relic  of  the  Vyses  is  their  coffer,  or  deed- 
chest,  where  tliey  probably  ke|)t,  as  in  a  safe,  the  court- 
rolls  of  the  manoi',  many  of  them  being  now  in  the 
William  Salt  Library  at  Stafford.  This  coffer  was,  like 
some  other  furniture  I  have  known  in  country  houses, 


GRANDMOTHER    BESSY    MOSS 
From  a  paintiui/  hi/  Ben.  Faui,KNEK,  c.  1840 


too  big  to  l)e  got  out  of  the  house,  and  so  heavy  or 
clumsy  that  nobody  liked  it.  It  is  made  of  six  slabs 
of  oak,  varying  in  thickness  from  an  inch  to  an  inch 
and  a  half  The  length  is  seven  feet  four,  breadth  one 
foot  five,  heiofht  two  feet  seven — from  the  OTound  one 
foot.  There  is  no  carving  whatever,  excepting  a  small 
plain  cross  at  each  end  ;  but  this  probably  dates  it  in 
pre-Reformation  times.       As   we    know   that   Hmnphrey 


36         PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

Yvse  of  Walford  H;ill  ])ouo-lit  the  manor  of  Staiidon 
in  1564,  and  previously  his  family  had  been  bailiifs, 
we  mav  be  siu'e  that  oak-trees  were  cut  down  at 
Walford  in  the  fifteenth  or  sixteenth  centuries,  and 
six  thick  planks  of  them  joined  into  a  coffer  within 
tlie  house,  where  it  remained  for  centuries,  and  after 
the  house  was  rebuilt  around  it. 

This  coffer  had  sometime  been  painted  white,  and 
tradition  says  it  had  been  sold  or  valued  at  half-a- 
crown.  It  was  used  as  a  blanket-chest,  but  the  heavy 
lid  trap})ed  manv  fingers,  and  it  was  given  to  me.  Six 
men  were  required  to  move  it ;  and  all  went  Avell  until 
the  London  and  North  Wester]  1  Ivailwav  Company 
got  hold.  They  delivered  it  at  Didsbury  witli  the 
front  utterlv  smashed  and  pieces  missing.  They 
denied  all  liability,  as  thev  had  told  the  waggoner  who 
took  it  to  them  thev  would  onlv  carry  it  at  "  owner's 
risk,"  and  that  it  should  have  been  safely  packed. 
An  inch  and  a  half  of  solid  old  oak  is  stron2:er  than 
a  brick  wall,  and  they  did  not  even  deliver  the  pieces. 
Another  old  wooden  plank  that  had  held  cheese  for 
generations  was  used  to  mend  the  coffer,  and  I  sat 
down  with  the  robbery  by  the  raiL\av  company ;  for 
experience  had  then  been  tc-aching  me  that  to  go  to 
law  was  to  fall  faster  into  the  clutches  of  rol)bers,  or 
as  the  old  folks  would  say,  "  Out  of  the  frying-pan 
into  the  fire." 

Along  the  great  south  road  where  I  have  tramped, 
ridden  on  horseback,  driven  in  coach  or  gig,  I  now  ride 
a  bike  ;  and  as  the  reader  of  my  books  should  know  the 
Cheshire  country  fairly  well,  let  us  begin  this  pilgrim- 
age on  the  further  side  of  what  is  known  as  Newcastle 
in  the  Potteries. 

As  we  near  Trentham  we  leave  the  grimy  desolation 
of  the  land  where  wealth  is  made  for  the  rich  beauty 
of  the  land  where  wealth  is  spent.  Well-kept  fences, 
young  trees  carefully  guarded,  old  trees  preserved,  neat 


A   FAMILY   TALE  zi 

farms,  handsome  lodges,  are  all  redolent  of  a  dukedom. 
Round  sheds  thickly  thatched,  with  here  and  there 
a  hound  or  hunter,  remind  one  of  the  kennels  of  a 
hunt.  As  the  road  mounts  into  the  hills  of  a  park- 
like country,  there  are  fanciful  cottages  at  the  wav- 
side,  where  temperance  drinks  are  displayed  Ijy  neatly 
dressed  maids  :  for  the  Duchess  of  Sutherland  encourages 
temperance  ;  and  it  seems  doubtful  whether  the  scene 
is  real,  or  whether  some  fair  damsel  will  not  step  from 
cottage  garden  with  a  glass  of  lemonade,  singing  like 
a  fairy  in  an  opera. 

\vl  line  air  and  scenery  the  road  winds  upwards, 
and  memory  brings  unbidden  to  my  thoughts  a  family 
tradition  of  mv  OTeat-o-randfather,  Thomas  Moss,  who, 
in  a  dark  night  of  the  winter  of  1772,  rode  for  miles 
along  this  lonely  way,  then  a  mere  track  across  desolate 
liills.  having  the  dead  body  of  Izaak  Wood  slung  across 
the  pommel  of  his  saddle.  He  had  seen  Wood  at  New- 
castle market ;  found  him  drowned  at  the  ford  of  a  little 
river  ;  hoisted  the  heavy  burden  on  to  his  own  horse,  and 
wearily  plodded  homewards. 

At  the  Ram  Inn,  Clifford's  Wood,  which  to-day  is 
a  lonely  farmhouse  on  high  land  at  cross  roads,  he 
sought  admittance,  but  was  refused.  The  host  in  his 
bed  would  not  want  unnecessary  risks,  and  knew  the 
dangers  of  the  times  and  country.  Moss  and  his  horse 
were  tired  with  the  ghastly  burden,  and  he  called  out : 
"  If  you  don'r  fot  him,  I'll  swot  him."  In  my  boyhood 
I  was  often  told  if  anything  had  to  be  dumped,  or 
tlirown  down  heavily,  to  "  swot  it,  like  your  o-reat- 
grandfather  did  old  Izaak  Wood." 

The  drowned  man  was  a  freeholder  who  farmed 
his  own  land,  and  was  known  as  Wood  of  Coates.  I 
remember  a  orrandson  of  his  who  weio-hed  three  hundred 
and  sixty  pounds  ;  had  nineteen  children,  and  boasted 
he  could  drink  twenty  glasses  of  ale  at  a  sitting. 
But   the   times  have  chansred.      If  the  above  authentic 

C  2 


T,S        PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD   HOMES 

tip'ures  were  divided  by  Iavo,  or  even  by  three,  the 
results  would  now  be  considered  more  fashionable. 
Even  I,  after  beino-  reared  in  the  faith  of  "  (Jhurch 
and  State,"  have  forsaken  the  ways  of  niy  fathers,  and 
ride  a  bike  instead  of  the  horse  of  my  younger  days. 
How  could  any  one  do  the  work  of  a  good  Samaritan 
or  carry  a  corpse  on  a  bicycle  ? 

The  land  of  my  sires  is  before  me  :  miles  of  fertile 
country  all  around,  and  miles  of  good  roads  downhill 
towards  home.  There  is  danger  in  rabbits  that  scurry 
about  and  might  get  mixed  up  in  the  wheels.  A 
brace  of  partridge  are  nearly  run  over  as  they  fluff 
themselves  in  the  dust  :  their  tails  spread  like  blazing 
fans  as  they  jump  into  flight.  Startled  waterhens 
scutter  away  in  the  lower  grounds,  and  many  things 
there  are  to  see  ;  but  the  pace  was  too  good,  as  one 
rolls  downhill  in  fair  weather,  to  notice  aught  beyond 
the  exhilaration   of  rapid  easy  movement. 

The  valley  is  crossed,  and,  walking  u|)hill,  I  come  to 
the  little  church  and  churchyard  where  so  many  of 
my  kindred  lie.  It  is  nearly  hidden  in  big  trees,  the 
rectory  and  a  few  cottages  being  the  only  houses  near  ; 
but  there  is  evidently  excitement  and  commotion  amono- 
the  neighbours.  The  rooks  seem  noisier  than  ever,  being- 
disturbed  or  jealous  of  the  fuss.  The  peewits  plaintively 
Qvy  pec-e-ivit-wit-wit ,  as  if  fears  were  mingled  with  their 
iov  of  the  sininoftide.  The  mallards  flit  round  the  yews 
of  the  rector's  pool,  spreading  out  their  feet  when  they 
liofht  on  the  water  ;  for  their  matrimonial  eno-ao-ements 
are  proceeding  satisfactorily,  as  the  ducks  are  sitting  and 
the  fox  has  not  yet  taken  them. 

The  future  hoers  of  turnips  and  milkers  of  cows  are 
putting  on  clean  surplices,  which  hide  everything  but 
their  hobnailed  boots  and  shock  heads  of  hair.  Trans- 
formed into  choristers,  they  will  soon  be  singing  "  The 
voice  that  breath'd  o'er  Eden  "  with  voices  used  to  the 
"  howoop  I  "  the  calling  u])  of  the  cows,   or  the  scaring 


THE    WEDDING 


39 


of  birds  from  the  corn.  From  all  sides,  in  many  varied 
vehicles,  there  comes  a  gathering-  of  the  clan,  a  "  knit- 
ting sever 'd  friendships  u[)  '  of  friends  not  seen  for 
years.  The  bridegroom  looks  so  exuberantlv  happv 
that  it  would  do  any  one  good  to  see  him.  It  is  verv 
meet  and  right  he  should  be  happv,  f>r  not  manv 
months   before    he  was    lyino-    amono-   the   dead    of   the 


STANDOX   CHURCH 


The  former  church  was  destroyed  Ijy  Sir  Gilbert  Scott :  only' one  Saxon 
or  Norman  arch  remains.  The  photograph  is  an  old  one.  showing 
my  mother,  when  nearly  ninety,  in  the  pony-cart. 


Black  Watch  in  tlie  slaughter-pit  of  Magersfontein  from 
Friday  to  Sunday,  shot  through  the  leg,  untended  and 
uncared  for  ;  yet  here  he  is  again,  lively  enough  in  the 
gladness  of  his  heart,  for  to  be  left  for  dead  and  shot 
at  by  Boers  whenever  he  stirred  was  far  worse  than 
getting  wed. 

Others  of  the  family  wlio  had  o-one  to  that  land 
of  war  and  not  come  home  again  cause  mv  thoughts, 
which  must   wander  when  in   church,   to  mino^le  "  Give 


40        PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

peace  in  our  time,  O  Lord,"  with  the  exhortations  and 
advice  so  freely  given  to  those  who  embark  on  the 
holy  estate  of  matrimony.  Reverently  we  listen  and 
fervently  we  pray  that  the  Merciful  Father  will  bless 
"  these  two  persons,  that  they  mav  both  be  fruitful  in 
procreation  of  children,  and  also  live  tog-ether  long  in 
godly  love  and  honesty."  We  sing  for  joy,  are  thankful 
all  is  safely  over,  and  we  hasten  oft'  to  the  wedding- 
feast. 

We  go  up  the  steep  hill,  through  a  cutting  in  the 
rock,  and  down  again  to  the  old  hall,  or  what  remains 
of  it,  where,  under  the  massive  oaken  beam  which  still 
spans  the  ingle  nook,  the  bride  and  bridegroom  receive 
congratulations.  This  great  beam  of  the  original  house 
is  still  in  situ,  and  exactly  six  feet  from  the  floor.  It 
interested  me  greatly  to  see  how  well  the  happy  pair 
fitted  the  space  ;  for  all  members  of  the  family  should 
be  reared  so  that  their  heads  will  touch  the  beam 
when  tliey  stand  erect  beneath  it.  An  allowance  of 
six  inches  out  of  the  six  feet  may  be  made  to  fem.ales 
or  ricklings  ;  but  any  below  that  height  are  not  fitted 
for  a  country  life,  being  more  like  the  little  pale-fliced 
folk  who  dwell  in  towns,  striving  to  make  money  out 
of  one  another  in   the  slippery  paths  of  honesty. 

The  head  of  the  bridegroom  and  the  head-dress  of 
the  bride  (which  was  about  two  inches  above  her 
head),  exactly  touched  the  beam ;  and  not  a  man  or 
woman  of  the  family  there  present  was  six  inches  below^ 
its  standard.  Much  more  remarkable  was  the  fact 
that  the  bridegroom's  father  and  brother  had  to  be 
careful  they  did  not  knock  their  heads  against  the 
beam  or  the  doorway,  for  the  old  man  was  six  foot 
six,  and  the  brother  tallest  of  all. 

The  granny  was  in  her  glory.  Her  children's 
children's  children  are  in  every  quarter  of  the  earth  ; 
but  there  were  plenty  there  to  talk  to.  Tongues  were 
going  like  bell-clappers.     Age  has   not  weakened  hers, 


ONE   GENERATION   PASSETH   AWAY     41 

or  more  than  ninety  years  of  unremitting-  work  lessened 
its  power  of  repartee.  The  old,  old  tales  of  ruination 
through  free  trade  and  education  were  ready  for  me  as 
soon  as  I  tried  to  get  a  word  in  edgeways.  Another 
feather  in  her  cap  Avas  the  recent  reconversion  of  the 
Tories  to  "tariff  reform,'  or  "reciprocity,"  or  whatever 
it  might  be  called.      Had  not  she  persisted  in  it  all  her 


GRANNY    IN    HER    NINETY-FOURTH    YEAR 


lono-  life  ?  Now  thev  were  comino'  round.  Just  in 
time.  It  was  nearly  too  late,  and  every  one  was  ruined. 
When  I  timidly  suggested  that  import  duties  might 
run  up  the  price  of  fresh  butter  to  half-a-crown  a  pound, 
she  did  not  argue,  like  a  mere  member  of  parliament, 
with  confusing  figures,  but  boldly  said,  "So  it  ought 
to  be  :  it's  worth  it.  Stop  that  foreign  grease  you 
free  traders  have  to  eat  in  towns  ;  you  may  well  look 
poorly." 


42         PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD   HOMES 

As  the  advice  of  age  should  always  be  treated  n-ith 
respect,  and  hers  is  given  freely  without  any  doubts  or 
misgivings,  I  thought  it  would  be  better  for  me,  as  a 
member  of  the  Education  Committee  of  Manchester  and 
a  trustee  of  National  Schools,  to  learn  what  she  would 
teach  if  she  had  all  her  own  way  in  everything.  After 
a  little  bewailing  of  the  good  old  times  when  servants 
could  not  read  or  write,  but  could  bake,  brew,  or  scrub, 
far  better  than  anv  could  do  now — that  beinix  their 
education — and  were  glad  to  work  for  their  keep,  with, 
perhaps,  a  guinea  or  two  at  Christmas,  if  they  were 
good  all  the  year  round,  I  persuaded  her  to  begin  at 
the  beginning,  and  say  what  she  would  teach.  Her 
answer  was  as  follows:  "The  first  thino^  I  would  teach 
a  girl  would  be  to  wash  a  plate  without  breaking  it ; 
to  set  and  side  the  breakfast  things  without  knocking 
the  handles  off  the  cups  ;  to  bake  good  bread  ;  to  boil  a 
potato  ;  to  sew  ;  to  darn  ;  to  knit ;  to  hem.  Then,  when 
she  could  do  those  necessary  things  ]>roperly,  she  might 
learn  to  read.  Tliose  donkeys  of  parsons  teach  them  to 
read  first,  and  to  submit  themselves  lowly  and  reverently 
to  all  their  betters.  Then,  all  that  they  read  upsets 
everything  else,  and  they  are  always  looking  out  for 
young  lords  coming  a-courting,  or  some  other  mischief 
they  would  learn  fast  enough  of  themselves.  Why,  the 
blessed  parsons  and  professors  themselves  don't  know 
whether  a  girl  should  sweep  the  dust  of  the  kitchen 
floor  out  of  the  door  or  into  the  fire  ;  and  if  you  tell 
some  of  the  fine  damsels  to  skin  a  rabbit,  they  turn 
pale  and  cough.  Oh  dear  !  more  than  eighty  years 
ago,  my  poor  old  uncle  Thomas,  sitting  on  that  very 
settle,  said,  '  Mark  my  words,  this  education  will  ruin 
the  country.'  It  has  ruined  it !  We  have  to  work 
our  fingers  to  the  bone  to  scrat  for  a  living.  It's 
all  mauling,  and  fending,  and  slaving.  He  prophe- 
sied it  years  before  that  old  humbug  Gladstone  with 
his  free  trade  was   ever  heard   of      What   a   fuss   they 


ANOTHER  GENEKATION  COMETH  43 

made  of  the  old  humbug,  and  now  all  the  clever 
folk  are  coming  round  to  what  I  always  told  them  ; 
but  if  my  poor  uncle  Thomas  knew  what  is  going 
on  in  the  country  nowadays  it  would  make  him 
turn  in   his  grave." 


A  YEAR   AFTER 


CHARTLEY 


SOON   after    the    excitement    of   the    wedding    re- 
corded  in   the    previous    chapter    liad    somewhat 
subsided,    I    set    oif    from    Walford    for    a    day's 
cychng,  with  the  hope  of  finding  the  wild  white 
cattle  of  Chartley. 

Through  the  primitive  park  of  8wvnnerton  and  over 
the  hills  beyond  I  travel  on  to  Stone  and  the  vale  of 
Trent.  A  fine  piece  of  the  road  to  London  goes  past 
the  gorgeous  gates  and  park  of  Sandon  Hall,  the  seat 
of  the  Earl  of  Harrowby.  Beyond  tlie  park  I  turn  to 
the  left  in  country  lanes  in  the  direction  of  Uttoxeter. 
Chartley  Hall  is  still  in  a  very  secluded  district — a 
modern  house  on  the  side  of  an  island  surrounded  by 
a  moat  broad  enough  in  one  part  to  be  called  a 
mere.  A  little  further  on,  in  the  park  and  near 
to  the  roadside,  the  ancient  ruined  castle  stands  on 
a  rock,  rising  beautifully  above  the  encircling  trees. 
A  few  yards  more,  and  there  is  an  unrestored,  un- 
spoilt, timber-framed  Tudor  manor-house  on  the  other 
side  of  the  road,  and  after  a  sharp  ascent  towards 
the  higher  moors  I  find  a  picturesque  cottage,  where 
the  head  gamekeeper  happens  to  be  at  home.  He 
told  me  the  cattle  were  not  always  easy  to  find  ;  for 
the  moors  were  miles  across,  and  strangers  were  not 
allowed  to  ramble  anywhere.  Seeing  my  name  and 
address,  which  are  plainly  printed  on  the  bicycle,  he 
asked  me  if  I  knew  Mr.  Daniel  Adamson  (the  founder  of 
the  ship  canal),  wlio  had  lived  at  Didsburv  ;  for  he  had 
"kept  "  for  him  in  Shropshire.      I  replied,  "Yes,  I  knew 


46         PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

liini  well.  We  were  near  neighbours  ;  l)iit  I  did  not  know 
he  could  shoot."  To  this  the  gamekeeper  shrewdly  re- 
marked :  "■  Well,  he  couldn't  ;  but  he  found  sport  for 
gents  from  Manchester,  who  blazed  away  at  anything 
and  everything." 

We  took  long  sticks,  and  set  off  for  a  tramp  up  one 
of  the  most  primitive,  wild,  dark  moors,  that  I  had 
ever  trod.  There  seemed  to  be  no  shelter  for  miles,  and 
nothing  for  cattle  to  eat.  All  around  was  cold  and 
bleak,  witli  lierbage  like  coarse  brown  peat.  We  soon 
found  fallow-deer,  and  then  the  heads  and  horns  of 
lordly  stags  were  seen  against  the  sky.  A  wild  whistle 
suddenly  rings  around,  Ivat  tlie  keeper  merely  says, 
"  curlew,"  and  opens  a  big  tield-glass  for  distant  view. 
He  reports  the  cattle  to  be  in  a  distant  hollow,  where 
there  is  water  ;  and  a  cow  has  a  calf  which  causes  her  to 
be  more  dangerous  than  any  bull.  My  breath  being 
scant,  discretion  is  better  than  venturing  too  near  :  so  we 
sit  on  a  trough  for  corn  that  may  be  used  in  the  winter, 
and  there  we  rest  a  while.  Miles  of  solitude,  almost 
desolation,  but  abundance  of  invigorating  air  for  any 
well-fed  animal,  are  all  around  us.  On  other  high 
ground  is  a  withered  tree,  where  the  keeper  says,  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots  was  wont  to  sit.  What  a  mixture  of 
thoughts,  it  seems,  to  talk  of  that  heroine  of  romance 
and  w^ild  cattle  I  Let  us  learn  what  we  ca.n  of  the  latter, 
first,  and  leave  the  fascinating  lady  for  study  in  the 
winter. 

On  that  day  all  that  were  left  of  the  famous 
Chartley  cattle  were  thirteen.  They  were  divided  in 
two  small  herds,  the  younger  ones  being  in  the  park, 
and,  dreadfLil  to  relate,  one  of  them  was  black. 

The  Chartlev  cattle  have  longer  horns  tlnin  those 
in  the   other    Enp'lish   wild   herds.      Their   hair    is   more 

o 

shaggy,  in  rough  curls  on  the  forehead,  mane,  and  dew- 
lap or  brisket.  The  colour  is  white,  but  glossy  black  on 
muzzles,  eyes,  ears,  tongues,  teats,  and  hooves.     liouiid 


48 


PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 


the  eves  and  nose  are  many  small  black  spots,  gTadually 
fa  din  o-  awav  on  the  neck,  with  some  on  tlie  leo-s.  In 
country  parlan.ce,  this  spotty  colouring  is  known  as 
flea  bitten,  or  grizzly.  They  are  handsome,  good-looking 
cattle,  from  the  point  of  view  of  either  tlie  artist  or  the 
butcher.      The    meat    is    said    to   be    verv   like    venison, 


^ 


>^-.  _..^:,';^.  _  :.-;^^vv 


■-^•^ 


■■€^.: 


1^ 


'^-*;ii3^^|-^^^ 


^*y^" 


YOUNG    WILD    CATTLE.    CHARTLEY    PARK,     I903 


especially  in  the  fat.  Fifty  years  ago,  the  herd 
numbered  forty -eight.  Thirty  years  since,  they  had 
dwindled  to  twenty-seven.  During  the  next  twenty 
years  there  was  little  change  in  them;  but  in  1903 
there  were  only  thirteen,  and  ten  when  we  saw  them 
the  following  summer. 

About     1878    I    rode    or    drove    to    Lyme    Park,    in 
Cheshire,  to  see  the  remnant  of  the  herd  of  wild  cattle 


THE   WILD   CATTLE 


49 


that  were  there  dving^  out.  There  were  then  three 
cows  on  the  hills,  and  a  young  bull  that  was  tied  up. 
They  looked  very  like  the  Chartley  cows,  but  all  are 
now  gone.  It  seems  inexplicable  how  our  wealthy 
landowners,  who  waste  thousands,  grudge  the  pittance 
to  keep    the  remnants  of  the   picturesque,    interesting, 


ox   THE   HIGH    MOCRS.   CHARTLEY.   1934 
One  old  cow  shakes  her  head  dangerously. 

and  useful  wild  cattle,  which  are  und(»ul)tedlv  the 
original  stock  from  which  our  present  givers  ui'  milk 
and  meat  are  descended. 

In  Somerford  Park,  Cheshire,  there  is  a  domesticated 
herd  which  are  said  to  be  of  pure  descent  from  the 
wild  ones,  but  thev  have  been  gradually  brtd  to  be 
hornless.      I  wrote  to  the  owner,   Sir  Waltei*  Shakerley, 

D 


50         PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

for  information  about  tlieni  and  leave  to  photogra})h 
them. 

The  Shakerleys  have  not  been  at  Somerforcl  much 
more  than  a  hundred  years,  and  have  no  records  of  the 
cattle,  who  were  there  long  before  them,  though  they 
liave  carefully  ]ireserved  the  breed. 

The  Somerfords  of  the  Domesday  Simireford  became 
extinct  in  Tudor  times.  The  park  is  on  the  banks  of 
the  Dane,  about  thirty  miles  from  Chartley  and  half 
that    distance   from   Lvme.      The    cattle    are  unmistak- 


A   SOMEKFORD   COW 


ably  like  those  of  Chartley  and  Lyme,  excepting  for  the 
absence  of  horns.  Li  days  long  since  gone,  some  one  has 
driven  the  wild  white  cattle  from  the  neighbouring  hills 
into  the  fine  and  fertile  park  of  Somerford,  kept  them 
for  milk,  and  by  careful  breeding  developed  a  hornless 
variety  from  what  was  probably  originally  an  accidental 
or  chance  sport  without  the  useless  excrescences  of  horns. 
Tlie  cows  certainly  look  good  "  Imtcher's  beasts" 
and  good  milkers.  As  in  all  dairy  farms,  the  calves  are 
not  allowed  to  suck,  and  tlie  cattle  are  treated  in  the 
common  custom  of  the  coimtrv.      Thev  are  white,  with 


s^rr? 


52         PILGRIMAGES    TO   OLD   HOMES 

black  muzzles,  ears,  teats,  and  ''flea-bitten"  spots  on 
the  necks  and  legs.  The  bull  appeared  to  have  a  very 
high-arched  neck,  Init  I  kept  a  very  respectful  distance 
from  him,  as  we  could  not  find  any  one  to  go  with  us. 
The  herd  \\'ere  straggling  about  in  a  very  difterent 
manner  to  the  wild  herd  at  Chartley,  who  "  bunched  " 
together,  witli  the  bull  alwavs  in  front.  They  are 
"  dosome, '  and  a  cheese  factor  of  fifty  years'  experience 
told  me  the  richest  cheese  in  Cheshire  came  from  the 
Dane  valley.  Black  calves  have  been  known  at  rare 
intervals,  but  all  tradition  or  folk-lore  is  lost,  as  generally 
happens  when  a  family  does  not  live  in  one  house  or  on 
one  spot  for  centuries. 

At  (Jhillingham,  in  Northumberland,  tlie  well-known 
herd  of  wild  cattle  difiers  from  that  at  Chartley  in  having 
red  ears  instead  of  black,  with  horns  shorter  and  more 
"  cockv, "  but  their  historv  shows  that  orio-inallv  the 
markings  of  them  were  black,  like  to  the  others. 

At  Whalley,  in  Lancashire,  the  abbots  strictly  pre- 
served the  wild  cattle  on  the  surrounding  hills,  and 
Houghton  Tower  was  a  noted  centre  for  them.  To  this 
day  the  chief  inns  of  most  of  the  towns  and  villages 
in  Lancashire  are  called  the  Bull,  or  the  White  Bull. 

The  Whallev  herd  seems  to  have  been  well  pre- 
served until  the  death  of  Sir  John  Assheton  in  1697. 
It  was  then  divided,  one  half  l)eino-  sent  to  Middleton 
near  Manchester,  from  wlience  the  successors  were  driven, 
about  1765,  to  Gunton,  in  Norfolk,  the  seat  of  Lord 
Suftield.  Some  survivors  were  recently  at  Blickling 
Hall  and  Woodbastwick,  in  Norfolk.  The  other  half 
of  the  Whalley  herd  were  kept  at  Gisburne,  where 
the  last  bull  was  solemnly  killed  at  8.35  a.m.,  10th 
November  1859,  and  his  weight  recorded  as  being  742 
pounds  of  beef,  without  oftal,  all  being  respectfully  done 
after  his  portrait  had  been  painted  by  Ward,  B.A.,  for 
the  sign  of  the  White  Bull  at  Gisburne. 

At  Cadzow,  across   the  Scottish  l)order,  there  is  an 


THE   WILD   CATTLE  53 

original  herd  and  scattered  reiiiuants  or  survivals  in 
various  parks.  As  a,  rule,  it  seems  as  if  the  wild  cattle 
did  the  best  on  the  bleak  hills  that  bisect  the  northern 
half  of  England.  At  Vale  Koval,  in  Cheshire,  a  herd 
had  been  preserved  until  the  Civil  War,  when  all  were 
plundered ;  but  one  cow  escaped,  and  travelled  home 
from  far  away.  She  was  v/hite,  with  red  ears,  and  was 
greatly  treasured  ever  after.      Only  a  few  years  since  I 


BRED    FUR    MILK 


had  a  cow  from  Staffordshire  which  was  distinctlv  like 
the  Chartley  breed.  Ordinary  cows  were  then  taken 
in  the  park  to  lev,  and  tlie  old-fashioned  cows  of 
Staffordshire  wei'e  lono--horned. 

Two  hundred  years  ago,  white  cattle  with  Ijlack  or 
red  points,  and  more  or  less  in  a  state  of  nature,  appear 
to  have  been  connnon  in  our  northern  district.  Xote 
the  pictures  of  cows  on  p}).  x,  34,  and  72.  One  hundred 
years  ago,  seven  herds  of  wild  ones  are  recorded. 
Now   there  are    tlu^ee,   or,    it   miy  be   said,    oidv   two  : 

D  2 


54        PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

for  as  I  write  these  lines,  in  A})ril  1905,  there  is  news 
that  the  Duke  of  Bedford  has  bought  the  eirjlit  beasts 
left  at  Chartley  and  taken  them  to  Woburn. 

Six  hundred  years  ago,  when  folk  believed  more 
in  folk-lore,  when  there  was  much  less  learning  but 
more  simple  faith,  it  was  fervently  believed,  in  the 
country  round  Chartley,  that  a  black  calf  born  in  the 
herd  of  wliite  cattle  denoted  death  or  disaster  to  the 
Ferrers  family  who  owned  them.  The  first  instance 
I  have  read  of  is  in  1322.  There  may  have  been  some 
coincidences,  if  not  reasons,  some  instances,  for  the 
popular  belief  Of  course,  we  superior  beings  know 
it  was  all  rubbish — old  wives'  fables,  &c.  The  game- 
keeper tells  me  (in  confirmation  of  what  I  knew  long 
before)  that  black  calves  are  sometimes  born,  l)ut  that 
he  or  other  custodians  would  kill  them  at  once,  so 
that  no  one,  not  even  the  devil  himself,  should  know, 
and  the  evil  should  be  averted.  Lately,  Earl  Ferrers 
ridiculed  this  barbarous  practice,  and  told  the  keeper 
not  to  do  it  again.  A  black  heifer  calf  had  been 
born  and  reared  in  1902,  the  year  before  I  went. 
In  1904  it  had  a  white  calf,  and  is  shown  in  the 
photograph.  In  the  notes  of  my  first  visit  I  expressed 
surprise  that  the  keeper  had  not  made  the  little  black 
stranger  into  veal  pie.  Since  then  barely  two  years 
have  elapsed,  but  many  things  have  happened.  The 
uncanny  beast  has  thriven.  There  have  been  prosaic 
sales  l3y  auction.  Chartley  is  owned  by  other  lords ; 
the  wild  cattle  have  left  the  home  where  they  roamed 
for  a  thousand  years  ;  the  white  bull  and  the  black 
heifer  alike  have  been  carried  into  captivity. 

Little  time  was  lost  before  X  with  his  camera 
accompanied  me  to  Chartley ;  but  one  day  was  not 
sufticient  for  us ;  and  having  in  the  meantime  read 
the  letters  of  Sir  Amias  Poulet,  the  keeper  of  the 
Scottish  queen,  I  planned  another  journey  that  would 
take   in   Tutbury   Castle,   and   also   arranged   with    the 


TUTBUEY    TOWERS    AND    TOWS 


liitiS^''-- 


DOORWAY   TO   TUTBUEY   CHURCH 


TUTBURY 


57 


gamekeeper    for    a    day   when    the    weather    should    be 
tine  for  the  moors. 

We  went  by  train  to  Derby  ;  burst  my  hind  tyre 
in  the  street  with  their  new  tram-lines ;  had  to  buy 
a  new  tyre  ;  then  cycled  across  the  country  through 
an  unknown  land,  where  there  were  many  picturesque 


A    BIT    OP    TUTBURY    CASTLE 


old  houses  (one  at  Hilton  ?)  that  we  knew  nothing 
about,  and  had  no  time  to  ask,  until  w^e  came  to 
Tutbury,  once  a  famous  stronghold  in  the  Midlands, 
but  now  left  severely  alone  by  the  great  railways 
and  industries  of  the  present  day.  The  ruins  of  its 
castle  are  on  a  steep  little  hill,  and  half-way  up  is  a 
fine    Norman    church,    securely    locked.       We    had    no 


58 


PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 


time  to  waste  A\'ith  parson  or  verger.  Perhaps  their 
sermons  may  tell  some  one  that  patience  and  lono- 
suftering  are  characteristic  of  (Christians,  but  we  shall 
not  be  there  to  hear.  Contrary  to  custom,  X  actually 
photographed  the  Norman  doorway,  and  I  begged  for 
a  shot  at  the  church  from  the  castle  gate.  The  rooms 
that  were  set  apart  in  the  castle,  and  probably  reno- 
vated for  the  use  of  the  queen,  are   all   hi   ruins  ;   but 


THE   CHAMBERS   OF   THE   QUEEN    OF   SCOTS   IN   TUTBCKY    CASTLE 


we  give  their  pictures,  and  one  of  them  seems  to  show 
the  ghosts  of  Mary's  ladies,  if  not  herself,  still  lingering 
about  their  former  haunts. 

A  very  curious  resurrection,  though  certainly  not 
a  ghostly  one,  occurred  at  Tutbury  in  the  freshness 
of  the  summer,  the  early  days  of  June  1831.  For 
untold  ages  the  mill  had  stood  upon  the  river  Dove 
and  the  mill-race  needed  cleansing.  Some  coins  were 
discovered  in  the  gravel  and  silt  below  the  water,  and 
as  most  men  are  fond  of  finding  money,  the  search  was 
more   and  more   successfully  prolonged,  until   the  good 


TREASURE-TROVE  59 

folk  of  Tutbury  ftiirly  lost  their  precious  wits  through 
the  treasure  that  was  so  bountifully  bestowed  on 
them.  They  dani'd  the  river,  and  everything  else ; 
dug  down  to — goodness  knows  where  ;  found  pints, 
quarts,  or  gallons  of  coins,  all  ready  for  spending, 
rather  dirty — but  that  was  a  trifle — good  for  trade  and 
drink — especially  drink.  "  Let  us  drink,  for  to-morrow 
we  die." 

Two  hundred  thousand  coins  of  the  kings  Henry 
III.,  Edward  I.,  and  II.,  with  some  foreign  and  some 
church-money,  were  said  to  have  been  recovered  from 
the  bed  of  the  little  river  Dove,  which  was  at  one  spot 
a  mass  of  silver  coins.  They  could  not  be  given  to  the 
Caesars  whose  image  was  on  them,  for  the  poor  Caesars 
had  been  gone  five  hundred  years.  Besides,  common 
folk  say,  "  finding's  keepings."  They  do  not  know  what 
treasure-trove  means,  and  do  not  want  to  know  :  their 
o-reat  regfret  would  be  thev  had  not  found  it  sooner 
and  told  no  one.  Antiquaries  Ijelieve  that  here  were 
the  lost  or  hidden  funds  for  the  war  of  the  Earl  of 
Lancaster,  who  was  in  rebellion  against  the  second 
Edward  in  1322,  and  who  had  accused  the  Abbot  of 
Burton  (where  the  ale  comes  from)  of  having  stolen  his 
treasure.  It  is  now  plain  that  the  rebel  barons  lost 
their  military  chest  in  their  flight  across  the  river 
by  Tutbury  Castle.  Ferrers  of  Chartley  was  one, 
and  that  year  is  the  first  record  of  a  black  calf  dropt 
at  Chartley. 

Truth  stranpfer  than  fiction  ao^ain.  To  think  of  the 
hungrv  and  covetous  prowling  round  this  stream  for 
five  hundred  years,  the  miller  grinding  on,  the  angler 
fishing  for  tiny  trout,  and  the  ready  money  rusting  in 
peace,  when  manv  of  them  would  have  ruined  them- 
selves, body  and  soul,  to  have  got  it  if  they  had  known. 
They  were  kept  from  it  as  we  were  from  the  locked 
church,  where  we  mig^ht  have  heard  old  tales  about  the 
love  of  monev  and  the  fliorht  of  time  ;  Ijut  we  hasten  on. 


62         PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

through  Dravcot  hi  the  Olay  and  Scrnh,  or  Stuh,  lane 
to  onr  rendezvous  with  the  gamekeeper  at  Chartley. 

A  long  tramp,  probably  three  miles,  across  the  bare 
moor,  takes  us  to  the  dwindlino-  herd  of  wild  cattle.  X 
carried  his  camera  and  stand,  while  I  had  four  })lates. 
There  were  two  chances  to  consider  :  the  bull  might 
charge  us,  or  the  whole  herd  might  bolt.  To  guard 
against  the  latter,  an  underkeeper  came  with  a  bag  of 
cake  over  his  shoulder.  If  the  former  happened,  the 
keeper  said  our  only  course  was  to  hide  ourselves,  and 
as  nothing,  not  even  bracken,  grew  much  higher  than 
a  few  inches,  there  was  barely  cover  for  a  goose.  The 
cattle  were  out  in  the  open,  where  there  was  no  shelter, 
not  even  a  tree-stump,  for  nearly  a  mile.  We  manoeuvred 
to  approach  on  the  sunny  side  and  let  the  man  with  the 
cake  go  first.  I  was  afraid  the  shining  camera  ^\•ould 
frighten  them,  and  suggested  to  X  that  if  the  bull  did 
charge,  to  leave  him  the  camera,  put  the  black  cloth 
over  his  head,  and  let  him  take  his  own  photographs 
while  we  ran  down  a  rabbit-hole.  X  focussed,  while  I 
watched  Billy  and  made  the  exposure.  He  looked  as 
pleasant  as  a  cow's  husband,  as  the  dairymaids  would 
say ;  but  he  was  wonderfully  good,  for  he  was  only  two 
years  old  and  wanted  more  cake. 

We  had  a  long  tramp  back  across  the  wilderness, 
some  of  the  most  desolate-looking  country  in  England, 
but  after  a  much-needed  tea  we  rushed  the  eight  or  nine 
miles  to  Statibrd  in  forty  minutes  and  caught  an  express 
for  home.     Safe  and  sound,  fagged,  but  happy. 

Considering  everything,  our  inspection  and  photo- 
graphs of  the  wild  cattle  were  all  we  could  wish.  We 
got  near  to  them  in  good  light,  and  that  might  never 
occur  again.  The  previous  year  we  approached  a  few 
young  ones  under  the  shade  of  a  tree  in  the  park  while 
a  gale  was  blowing,  and  that  was  all  we  could  manage. 
Another  day  we  never  went,  for  it  was  hopelessly  wet. 
An  enthusiastic   entomoloo^ist   tells  me  that  this  bleak 


CHARTLEY   HALL  63 

moor  of  Chartlev  is  the  southern  hiiiit  of  the  largfe 
heath  butterfly  :  it  seems  more  fitted  for  curlew  or  wild 
geese. 

All  that  remains  of  Chartley  Castle  are  two  round 
towers  whose  crumbling  ruins  crest  a  conical  hill  rising 
above  the  fine  old  yews  and  other  trees  that  clothe  its 
sides  down  to  the  water  of  a  pool  or  mere  that  is  shaped 
like  unto  a  horse-shoe,  the  ancient  badtje  of  the  Ferrers 
family.  At  the  heels  of  tlie  shoe  stands  the  hall,  but  it 
looks  strarijj-elv  modern  for  its  Ions:  and  romantic  history. 
Although  surrounded  by  water,  two  other  houses  have 
been  burnt  to  the  ground  on  the  same  site — the  one  that 
held  the  Scottisli  (jueen  and  its  successor — and  the 
modern  building  is  uninhabited.  Perhaps  it  is  haunted. 
If  it  isn't,  it  ought  to  be.  It  is  to  be  let,  or  sold,  and 
the  custodian  is  discreetly  silent.  He  shows  us  a  bed- 
stead, dated  1470,  which  is  said  to  have  been  used  by  the 
queen  ;  but  what  about  the  previous  fires  ?  The  front 
door  bell-handle  is  a  horse-shoe,  and  in  the  hall  are  heads 
of  the  wild  cattle  and  a  stufied  buzzard  that  was  shot 
near  the  castle.  By  far  the  most  interesting  part  of  the 
house  is  the  basement,  where  the  orio-inal  duno-eons.  with 
their  ponderous  doors,  still  exist.  Along  the  wall,  near 
to  the  water,  are  strong  iron  bars,  on  which  are  fetters 
for  the  legs  of  the  prisoners  who  were  chained  up  fast 
in  the  glorious  days  of  Good  Queen  Bess.  Tliev  were 
bright  with  use  then  :  now  the  iron  rusts.  How  the 
poor  chained  wretches  must  have  longed  to  drown 
themselves  and  their  troubles  in  the  deep  water  which 
surrounded  and  tempted  them  !  The  water  laps  on  the 
same  stones,  by  the  same  fetters,  to-day,  but  water- 
lilies  grow  in  it  now,  and  the  grass  on  the  bank  is  mown 
smooth.  Our  picture  shows  the  original  round  arches 
where  the  dunoeons  were. 

There  is  about  an  acre  of  lawn  and  garden  within 
the  moat ;  and  where  the  water  broadens  out  into  a 
small  lake  is  another  island,  on  which  a  swan  serenely 


THK    BACK    OF    CHAUTLEY    HALL 


CHAPa'LEY    CASTLE 


66         PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

sits  on  her  nest  in  glistering-  white  ])hnnage  conspicuous 
from  afar. 

We  went  round  the  mere  and  clambered  up  the 
castle  rock,  from  whence  there  was  a  grand  view  over 
a  fertile  park  and  country,  to  the  black  moor  on  one 
side  and  the  dark  hills  of  Cannock  Chase  on  the  other. 
The  wind  blew  like  a  hurricane,  increasing  our  diffi- 
culties in  finding  a  spot  to  fix  the  camera  for  the 
taking  of  a  tower.  A  j^laintive,  cheeping  sound,  that 
seemed  familiar,  attracted  mv  attention,  and  as  I 
searched  amid  the  nettles  and  grass  for  the  cause  of 
it,  a  hen-pheasant  rose  with  a  frightful  clatter,  and,  like 
lightning,  her  little  chicks  disappeared  in  the  herbage. 
They  had  not  long  been  hatched,  and  their  complaining 
cheeps  as  the  mother  was  skulking  away  were  like 
those  of  lost  chickens. 

For  the  return  journey  we  set  off  on  another 
voyage  of  discovery,  for  though  I  had  been  to  Croxden 
Abbey  before,  the  intervening  country  was  quite  un- 
known to  me,  and  there  was  a  good  road  as  far  as 
Uttoxeter,  the  scene  of  Dr.  Johnson's  penance ;  but 
after  that  the  ways  were  bad  indeed.  All  the  country 
looks  poor  and  uncared  for,  as  if  every  one  were  making 
all  they  could  out  of  it  and  neglecting  it.  The  hills 
are  small,  but  steep.  Between  them  there  is  generally 
an  unbridged  stream  of  water,  wdiich  the  cyclist  has 
to  charge  at  the  risk  of  a  bath  and  the  certainty  of 
wet  legs,  or  he  has  to  dismount  and  carry  his  bike 
over  a  plank  which  is  kindly  provided  for  pedestrians. 
Another  extraordinarv  and  most  unpleasant  feature 
of  the  district  is  a  horrible,  loud,  groaning  noise,  that 
for  miles  deadens  all  other  sounds.  It  is  caused  by 
the  strongly  braked  wheels  of  lorries  laden  with  big 
blocks  of  stone  from  quarries,  that  are  slowly  taken 
down  the  steep  hills  to  the  railways  or  canals  in  the 
valleys.  We  could  not  talk  to  one  another,  for  the 
excruciatino-    la-oaninir    deafened    us.      It    reminded    us 


CROXDEX   ABBEY 


^1 


of  the  sermons  we  used  to  hear,  describiiio-  the  moans 
of  the  damned  reverberating  from  the  bottomless  pit. 
Amono-    these    twistino-    lanes    we    find    the    ruined 


CROXDEX   ABBEY 


Abbev  of  Croxden.  A  public  road  goes  through  and 
about  the  abbey  itself,  j^ossibly  over  the  high-altar. 
The  ruins  are  visil)lv  less  tlian  wlien  I  saw  them  a  few 


68 


PILGEIMAGES    TO    OLD   HOMES 


years  before.  The  Gothic  arches  are  on  tlie  road  itself, 
and  some  are  doubtless  in  it.  The  hii^'hway  tramp  may 
shelter  in  the  buttressed  corners.  The  swine  forage 
around,  and  the  hens  nest  in  tlie  nettles,  for,  as  usual, 
the  soundest  buildings  have  been  converted  into  a  farm- 
stead. The  abbey  seems  to  have  been  mentioned  in 
history  as  being  the  place  where  King  John  wished  to 
have  what  he  called  his  heart  buried.      Did  the  heart 


CROXDEN    ABBEY 


do  the  abbey  any  o-ood  :'     Or  the  abbey  save  the  heart  ? 
What  are  the  pigs  rooting  up  '. 

Our  stay  was  short,  for  soon  we  wandered  on  to 
another  famous  place  of  grandeur  and  magnificence  ;  I 
cannot  call  it  a  home.  It  is  known  as  Alton  Towers, 
one  of  the  seats  of  the  Earls  of  Shrewsbury.  Unstinted 
wealth  has  been  lavished  in  transforming  hills  and  dales 
into  enchanted  o-ardens  strewn  with  statues,  stairs,  ter- 
races,  and  bridges,  leading  to  temples,  palaces,  or  pagodas. 
Fountains  and  waterfalls,  rocks  and  caves,  natural  and 
artificial,  weary  and   bewilder  one.      The  monument  to 


CEOXDEN"   ABBEV 


E  2 


yo        PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

the  proud  old  lord  who  caused  all  this  confusion  says  : 
"  He  made  the  desert  smile."  My  wearied  eyes  would 
rather  rest  on  banks  of  primroses,  or  the  heavenly 
blue  of  hyacinths  that  once  were  spread  1)eneath  the 
oaks,  or  on  the  I'usset  ripeness  of  our  English  orchards, 
than  see  all  this  Ijelauded  grandeur.  Whv  coulchi't  he 
let  our  English  desert  smile  in  peace,  as  it  was  wont 
to  smile,  without  his  Grecian  gods  and  naked  Ivomans  i 

These  journeys  by  different  ways  to  and  from  Chartley 
showed  us  a  cold,  bleak,  and  neglected  country.  Many  of 
the  large  houses  are  emptv  or  are  used  as  private  asylums. 
There  are  plenty  of  wealthy  lunatics  in  and  about  Man- 
chester, and  the  care  of  them  is  a  profitable  business. 
The  gamekeeper  told  us  that  Chartley  itself  would  have 
been  taken  for  that  purpose,  but  for  the  encircling  moat. 
The  safeofuard  of  the  surroundino-  water  was  of  the  p-reat- 
est  importance  in  the  captivity  of  the  Queen  of  Scots,  for 
if  she  had  been  found  dro\\ned  some  day,  the  Queen 
of  Eno-land  would  have  o-one  into  mournino-  and  reioiced 
greatly.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  might  be  difficult  to 
keep  lunatics  out  of  the  water,  and  to  lose  customers  reck- 
lessly is  like  killincf  the  o-eese  who  lay  the  o-olden  ej>'ofs. 

Some  very  interesting  letters  having  been  sent  from 
Chartley  during  the  captivity  of  the  Scottish  queen,  and 
contemporary  records  being  so  much  better  than  courtly 
histories  for  giving  vivid  and  life-like  pictures  of  what  actu- 
ally happened,  the  following  extracts  from  them  are  given. 

Sir  Amias  Poulet,  from  Somerset,  was  appointed  by 
Queen  Elizabeth,  in  i  585,  to  be  the  custodian  of  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots,  wdio  was  then  in  Tut  bury  C^astle.  A 
terrible  task  it  proved  to  him,  and  he  died  soon  after  her. 
His  descendants  or  family  connections  have  developed  into. 
Earl  Poulett ;  Paulett,  Marquis  of  Winchester  ;  Powlett, 
Duke  of  ( 'levelancl.  He  spelt  his  name  Amice,  and  that 
of  Cavendish,  the  previous  kee})er,  Candish.  The  spelling 
probably  gives  the  former  pronunciation.  Tlie  diplomatic 
and  cautious  term  he  used  for  Mary  was  "  this  queen." 


THE   CAPTIVITY   IN   CHARTLEY        71 

The  keeper  and  the  kept  and  all  tli<'ii'  retinue 
complained  bitterly  of  the  cold,  unconifortahle,  badly 
furnished  castle  at  Tutbury.  The  "  beggarl}^  little 
town "  Avas  dangerous  for  plots,  and  "  this  Queen  had 
gotten  the  hearts  of  all  by  her  alms,  giving  twenty 
marks  in  a  day,  casting  down  in  the  street  good  little 
sums  to  be  taken  up  by  them  that  list  to  stoop  for  it." 
Laundresses  and  priests  were  always  passing  to  and 
fro  ;  they  appear  t<>  have  been  the  special  bugbears  of 
the  keeper.  Servants  were  constantly  mixing  with 
the  townsfolk,  and  cochers  or  coachmen  would  exercise 
horses  about  the  countrv.  The  ceilings  and  walls  of 
the  castle  were  not  plastered,  and  carpets  or  hangings 
were  wanted  to  keep  draughts  out  of  the  rooms. 

On  Christmas  eve,  1585,  the  whole  company  flitted  to 
Chartley,  where,  if  some  troubles  were  ended,  others  began. 
A.  P.,  as  the  wily  keeper  signs  a  letter,  says  the  sur- 
rounding water  was  a  better  safeguard  than  the  strongest 
wall ;  that  a  bit  of  paper  as  big  as  his  finger  could  not  be 
conveyed  in  without  his  knowledge,  and  "  one  commodity 
suflicient  in  itself  to  recompense  many  incommodities  is 
the  abundance  of  water,  so  the  Queen's  laundresses  may 
be  lodofed  and  do  their  business  within  the  orates." 

The  retinue  were  too  many  for  the  hall,  and  as 
the  governor  had  thirty  soldiers  and  forty  servants 
he  probably  kept  them  at  the  neighbouring  castle.  He 
"  would  not  like  to  have  less,  for  he  must  be  stronger 
than  the  Scocs,  or  mio-ht  have  his  throat  cut  and  lose  his 
charge."  What  could  it  matter  to  him  about  his  cliarge 
if  his  throat  were  cut  \  Elsewhere  he  calls  them  "  seely, 
simjjle  souls,"  but  one  has  a  "  malicious,  cankered,  traitor- 
ous heart, '  when  he  has  taken  all  his  money  off  him. 

"  This  Queen  "  had  fifty-one  in  her  suite.  There 
were  an  apothecary,  four  grooms  of  the  chamber,  two 
yeomen  of  the  pantry,  two  cooks,  a  pastelar,  four 
turnbroshes,  an  embroiderer,  gentlemen's  gentlemen, 
and  sixteen  females,  including  both  ladies  and  wenches. 


72         PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

They  liad  fifteen  chambers,  oiilv  five  of  which  had 
liangings ;  that  is,  supposing  the  queen  had  the  five 
best  rooms,  there  would  be  ten  others  without  curtains, 
and  probably  without  plastered  walls  and  ceilings,  for 
fifty  people.  In  March,  when  the  weather  is  bitterly 
cold   and   sea-coal   costs   ten   shilhiigs    a    load  (sav,   ten 


LOCAL   CATTLE 


pounds  at  present  values),  and  my  lord  Essex,  who 
owns  Chartley,  is  troubled  about  his  timber,  "  this 
Queen  "  will  persist  in  having  four  fires  going  at  once. 
The  price  of  a  sheep  is  seven  shillings,  a  veal  (an  elastic 
animal)  is  nine,  and  fowls  are  threepence  each.  There 
are  sixteen  dishes  wanted  at  both  courses,  fish-days 
and    flesh-days.      The    hungry  Scots    "  fast "   in   winter, 


MARY   QUEEN   OF   SCOTS  jz 

wanting  eggs  and  fish  when  there  are  none,  and  are 
everlastingly  "craving."  The  "cavilling"  is  grievous, 
but  "  the  wife's  oversight  is  not  unprofitable."  Troubles 
thicken  when  a  baby  is  born  in  the  house  and  another 
is  expected.  Whatever  must  be  done  about  midwives, 
nurses,  and  priests,  even  if  godfathers  and  godmothers 
are  sternly  kept  at  a  distance?  The  much-perplexed 
A.  P.  writes  :  "  There  will  be  no  end  of  marrying  in  this 
great  household  if  they  may  marry  without  controlment 
according  to  their  own  religion  ;  "  and  he  forbids  a  priest 
to  enter.  This  higli-spirited  queen  says  a  priest  must 
be  admitted  to  christen  the  child.  She  scolds  them 
all  round,  frets  and  fumes,  and  snatches  up  the  babe, 
sprinkling  it  with  anything  that  is  handy,  and  says, 
"  Mary,  I  baptize  thee  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  the 
Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost." 

There  are  many  queer  little  bits  recorded  about  this 
romantic  Queen  of  Scots,  whose  peerless  beauty  and  won- 
drous fascination  are  so  belauded  in  the  courtly  histories. 
Like  the  authentic  portraits  of  her,  they  vary  greatly. 

She  indulged  in  the  queenly  sport  of  duck-hunting 
with  dogs  on  the  pool.  A  winged  duck  on  the  water 
is  chased  by  a  swimming  dog.  As  the  dog  gets  near 
to  the  duck,  the  poor  thing  dives  until  its  breath  is 
spent,  then  it  has  to  rise  again,  and  again  the  dog  tries 
to  grab  it.  If  it  gets  its  teeth  fast  into  the  duck,  the 
dog  takes  it  to  its  royal  mistress,  who  would  doubtless 
pet  it  fondly,  and  perhaps  eat  the  duck  after. 

We  may  also  learn  that  "  this  Queen  "  complaineth 
of  a  weak  stomach  and  drinketh  much  sack.  She  also 
suffers  from  rheum,  which  causes  a  distillation  into  her 
len-s  and  bereaves  her  of  the  use  of  them.  That  does 
not  sound  very  well,  but  A.  P.  considers  it  rather  an 
advantage  for  him  if  her  legs  are  really  bad  ;  but  the 
sack,  or  sherry,  is  very  dear,  and  "  his  Queen  "  is  ex- 
ceedingly penurious — the  perplexities  of  the  poor  man 
may  be  seen  from  the  following  starthng  glimpse  into 


74         PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD    HOMES 

the  deep  deceit  of  the  Jezebel  ^^  horn  the  Low  Cliurch 
parsons  style  "the  Great  and  Good."' 

Walsing-ham,  the  muiister  of  the  queen,  writes  by 
his  secretary,  Davison,  both  sio-ninof  the  letter,  to  Sir 
Amias  Poulet,  telling  him  that  her  Gracious  Majesty 
the  Queen  is  much  displeased  with  him,  and  blames  his 
'•  lack  of  tliat  care  and  zeal  in  her  service  that  you  have 
not  in  all  this  time  found  out  some  wav  to  shorten  the 
life  of  that  Queen,"  and  ''  cast  the  burthen  upon  her, 
knowing  as  you  do  her  indisposition  to  shed  blood,  espe- 
cially of  one  of  that  sex  and  quality,  and  so  near  to  her 
in  blood  as  the  said  Queen  is  "  :  .  .  "  Referring  the  same 
to  your  good  judgments  :  we  conmiit  you  to  the  protec- 
tion of  the  Almighty." 

How  polite  they  are  I  They  want  him  to  shed  the 
blood  of  that  sex  and  quality  (by  accident),  and  refer 
liim  to  the  Almighty !  They  might  well  want  their 
letters  to  be  burnt  at  once,  like  heretics,  or  returned. 
Wary  old  A.  P.  copied  them  iirst,  and  kept  copies. 
Who  knew  what  might  happen!  If  "his"  queen  were 
"got  at"  first — and  hundreds  were  hungry  for  the  job — 
then  "this  or  that"  queen  would  become  "  his  "  queen. 
Very  dangerous,  indeed,  were  some  of  these  glorious  days 
of  "  Good  Queen  Bess."  She  gave  orders  face  to  face, 
but  would  not  sign.  Stout-hearted,  shrewd  Sir  Amice 
struggled  painfully  on,  missed  the  many  pitfalls  in  his 
path,  and  died  in  his  bed  at  last. 

Chartley  had  no  great  hall  for  a  spectacle  in  blood- 
red  and  black,  like  Fotheringay  ;  but  it  had  a  deep  moat 
all  round  it,  and  if  the  Queen  of  Scots  had  been  found 
drowned  by  the  window^  or  the  garden-side  there  would 
have  been  another  mystery.  Would  it  have  been  an 
accident,  or  a  murder  as  foul  as  Darnley's,  or  even 
Rizzio's  ?  Sir  Amias  would  not  do  "  an  act  which  God 
and  the  law  forbiddeth  .  .  .  and  make  so  foul  a  ship- 
wreck of  my  conscience,"  but  he  kept  a  copy  of  the 
order  which  would  have  been  disowned  in  anv  event. 


THISTLES   FROM   TEARS 


/  D 


The  sun  still  shines  on  the  fair  lands  and  the  glit- 
tering pool  of  Chai'tley  as  it  did  when  Mary  sadly  sat 
there  sighing  for  the  help  that  never  was  to  come  ;  the 
only  deliverance  was  death.  The  stately  castle's  ruins 
stand  aloft  as  a  remembrance  of  her,  and  in  their  shade 
the  cattle  rest  whose  forebears  were  here  before  queens 
were  heard  of,  whose  ignorance  is  bliss,  and  placid 
contentment  better  far  than  all  the  glories  of  the 
throne  of  hio-h-souled  ladies  full  of  bitter  strife  and 
hatred,  cousins  in  blood  "  of  that  quality" — two  painted 
queens  who  sought  to  murder  one  another,  at  or  from 
the  Hall  of  CUiai'tlev. 

Little  is  left  of  them  now  but  tales  and  thistles. 
Idle  legends  tell  that  prickly  thistles  first  sprang  up 
there  on  the  patches  of  earth  that  were  sodden  with 
the  tears  of  the  Scottish  Queen. 


THE   STANDISH   PEW   IN   CHORLEY 
CHURCH,   LANCASHIRE 


"^  ^\Y  T  HEX  the  pilgrim  fathers  sailed  in  the  Speed- 
\  \   /       well  and   the   Mayflower,  they  fortunately 

V  V  had  with  them  Myles  Standish,  the  Puri- 
tan captain,  who  turned  out  to  be  the 
Oliver  Cromwell  of  the  party  ;  for  he  feared  God  and 
kept  his  powder  dry,  placing  his  one  little  howitzer 
or  cannon  on  the  roof  of  the  church,  where  it  could 
speak  to  some  purpose  in  the  conversion  of  the  heathen. 
Very  little  is  known  of  him,  though  he  was  a  chief 
founder  of  the  American  nation.  Without  him,  the 
little  band  of  pilgrims  woidd  have  been  annihilated  by 
the  Indians,  for  they  suffered  great  hardsliips  and  had 
"  plenty  of  nothing  but  gospel "  ;  yet  he  was  blamed 
for  not  converting  some  of  the  heathen  before  killing 
anv. 

Myles  Standish  appears  first  as  a  soldier  in  the 
Netherlands  against  the  Spaniards.  He  was  a  born 
fighter  and  leader  of  men,  studied  Caesar  and  the 
Bible,  was  militarv  commander  over  the  budding  com- 
monwealth of  America  for  its  first  thirtv-six  vears, 
nursed  the  sick  when  nearly  all  were  in  great  distress 
and  refused  to  take  the  cloaks  of  beaver-skin  from  the 
Indian  women. 

In  his  wall  he  left  to  his  son,  Alexander,  estates  in 
Lancashire,  which,  he  said,  were  given  to  him  "as  right 
heir  by  lawful  descent,  but  surreptitiously  detained 
from  me,  my  grandfather  being  a  younger  brother  from 
the  house  of   Standish    of   Standish."     The    Standishes 


SEATS    IN    Till;    PEW    (  F    STANDISII    OF    DLXBUliY 


78        PILGKIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

of  Standish  were,  and  are  to  this  day,  Catholics  ;  but 
the  Standishes  of  Duxburv,  their  kinsmen,  were  Protes- 
tants, and  as  he  named  his  place  in  America,  Duxbury, 
it  is  most  likely  he  was  one  of  them.  He  may  have 
been  illeo-itimate,  f>r  his  relatives  said  he  was,  so  that 
they  could  keep  the  estates  and  send  him  off  for  a 
soldier  of  fortune  to  make  his  own  way  in  the  world. 
That  was  the  usual  way  of  disposing  of  natural  sons 
for  many  ages  in  our  history. 

The  old  hall  of  Duxburv  is  efone,  and  I  know  of 
no  relic  of  the  Standish  family  but  the  pew  in  Chorley 
Church,  whicli  I  happened  to  see  when  going  with 
the  Lancashire  and  Cheshire  Antiquarian  Society  to 
Worden  Hall,  and  at  once  asked  leave  to  come  again 
and  photograph  it.  It  is  a  large,  square,  family  pew, 
with  the  arms  and  crest  of  Standish  of  Duxburv  carved 
in  oak  over  two  quaint  sadilia,  or  seats.  The  crest  is 
a  cock — not  an  owl,  as  some  say  ;  therefore  Longfellow 
was  riofht — 

"  He  was  a  gentleman  born  :  could  trace  his  i)e(ligree  plainly 
Back  to  Hugh  Standish  of  Duxbury  Hall,  in  Lancashire,  England. 

Heir  unto  vast  estates,  of  which  he  was  basely  defrauded, 
Still  bore  the  family  arms,  and  had  for  his  crest  a  cock  argent 
Combed  and  wattled  gules,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  blazon." 

If  any  one  has  not  read  "  The  (Jourtship  of  Myles 
Standish,"  let  him  learn  how  the  daring  captain  of  the 
Puritans  dare  not  meet  Priscilla,  the  Puritan  maiden, 
but  sent  his  secretary  to  do  his  courtship  for  him. 
John  Alden,  the  secretary,  was  in  love  with  her  him- 
self, and  therefore  in  a  great  quandarv  twixt  ol)edience 
to  his  chief  and  love  for  his  girl. 

"  Still  he  said  to  himself,  and  almost  fiercely  he  said  it, 
'Let  not  him  that  [.utteth  his  hand  to  the  [ilongli  look  backwards.' 

'  Ls  it  my  fault,'  he  said,  'that  the  maiden  hath  chosen  between  us? 
Is  it  my  fault  that  he  failed — my  fault  that  I  am  the  victor?' 


STAXDISH   OF   DUXBURY  79 

Then  within  him  there  thundered  a  voice,  like  the  voice  of  the  Proi)het : 
'  It  hath  displeased  the  Lord  !     It  is  the  temptation  of  Satan  ! ' 

'  Better  to  be  in  my  grave  in  the  green  old  churchyard  in  England, 
Close  by  my  mother's  side,  and  among  the  dust  of  my  kindred.' " 

But  Priscilla,  the  Puritan  maiden,  "  in  modest 
apparel  of  lionie-spuu,"  ended  the  matter  by  saying, 
"  Speak  for  thyself,  John,"  and  Myles  the  captain 
went  off  on  the  warpath  for  the  conversion  or  quiet- 
inpf  of  the  lied  Indians. 

The  chancel  of  the  church,  we  were  told,  was 
owned  by  the  Standishes  of  Duxbury,  and  it  contains 
their  memorials  and  arms.  One  of  the  family  brought 
the  bones  of  St.  Laurence  out  of  Normandy  in  1442, 
accordino;  to  a  certificate  of  that  date  whicli  is  still  in 
existence,  and  the  mouldering  bones  may  still  be  seen 
in  a  recess  in  the  eastern  wall.  Thev  were  brouo-ht 
for  the  "  pfite  and  auaile  of  the  sayd  church  to  the 
intent  that  the  forsayd  Sir  Bou  Standish,  Kt.,  and 
Dame  Jane  .  .  .  with  their  pdecessors  and  successors 
may  be  in  the  sayd  church  ppetually  prayed  for." 
Precious  few  of  the  good  folk  of  Chorley  pray  for  them 
now.  Some  pray  for  good  trade ;  some  that  their 
football  team  may  win,  and  others  pray  not  at  all. 
The  bones  are  a  curiosity  for  strangers,  but  I  preferred 
seeing  the  carved  oak,  there  being  another  pew  in  the 
church,  with  a  canopy  supported  by  tine  old  oaken 
columns,  each  column  having  two  spirals  separate  from 
one  another.  The  church  regfisters  1  carefullv  examined 
for  anv  record  of  the  baptism  of  Myles  (about  1584)  but 
could  not  find  his  name.  The  old  books  are  very  faded, 
stained  with  damp  and  much  thumbing,  but  are  not 
wilfully  mutilated. 

When  Myles  Standish  w^as  studying  his  Bibles  and 
Cfesar  in  the  new  colony,  a  namesake  of  his  was  killed 
at  Manchester  in  the  very  beginning  of  the  Civil  War, 
1642.      He    was   on  the  Bovalists'   side.       One  account 


8o 


PILGRIMAGES    TO   OLD    HOMES 


describes  liim  as  Captain  Standish  of  Standish  ;  another 
one  as  the  eldest  son  of  the  squire  of  Duxbury.  The 
family  seem  to  have  been  fond  of  fio-htinof,  for  as  late 
as  1812  there  was  not  only  litigation  about  Duxbury 
Hall,   but  blows,  ejectment,   and   imprisonment. 

Knight,  or  squire,  or  dame,  of  Standish  of  Duxbury 
sit  no  more  in  state  under  the  carved  can.opy  of  their 
fine  old  pew  in  Chorley  Church  with  the  cock  on  the 
helm  above.  It  mav  be  this  is  the  only  memorial  left 
in  England  of  tlie  brave  man  who  for  so  many  years 
guarded  the  Puritan  pilgrims  in  America. 


"  He  was  a  gentleman  born.     A  gamecock  of  long  pedigree, 
Not  argent,  nor  combed,  like  the  crest  of  the  Puritan  captain 
But  sable  and  gules,  a  knight  without  fear  or  reproach. 
Dubbed  by  the  hand  of  his  mast,er,  in  Didsbury,  England." 


F 


HOGHTON   TOWER 


"^  ROM  Cliorley  we  went  wandering  northwards 
along  the  uninteresting  roads  of  Lancashire.  It 
was  the  first  time  we  had  gone  north,  and  was 
no  better  tlian  if  we  had  gone  east  to  Derby- 
shire. It  is  a  melancholy  land,  devastated  with  its  own 
inner  wealth.  Grimv  smuts  settle  on  all  thino-s,  even 
on  the  faces  of  the  wayfarers,  and  stay  there.  The  roads 
are  worn  with  toil  and  traffic.  The  clouds  are  dull 
and  lowering,  shutting  out  the  brightness  of  the  sky. 
Far  ahead,  on  the  very  top  of  a  high  hill,  stands  Hoghton 
Tower,  and  round  it  runs  the  little  river  locally  called 
Darren.     Milton's  ode  to  the  "  Chief  of  men  "  mentions — 

''  Darwen  stream  with  lilood  of  Scots  imbued." 

There  are  more  Scots  than  ever  round  it  now  ;  but  thev 
take  better  care  of  their  blood,  and  imbue  the  streams 
with  Turkey- red  dye  or  other  waste  refu.se  out  of  which 
they  have  "  squozen  "  all  there  is  to  squeeze.  All  the 
land  seems  given  up  to  mills  and  pits  and  dyeworks.  It 
may  be  wealth  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice  even  of  a 
brewer  ;  but  what  is  the  good  of  it,  if  the  getter  is  to 
be  choked  with  soot  and  stink  in  the  crettino-  of  it,  and 
live  in  duhiess  and  depression  that  he  niay  (in  local 
language)  "cut  up"  respectably  when  he  is  dead  ;' 

Hoghton  Tower  stands  conspicuously  before  us,  with 
a  perfectly  straight  drive  continuously  going  ujjhill, 
and  more  than  a  mile  in  leiio'th.  There  is  somethiiii-- 
very  uncommon  in  the  approach  to  the  house  or  castle 
with  the  ever-widenino-  view  over  Lancashire.  Not 
manv  centuries  ao-o   all  this  land  was   wood  or  forest, 


HOGHTOX    TOWKR    IX    THE    DISTA^X'E 


THE   OUTKR   GATE 


84        PILGRIMAGES   TU    OLD    HOMES 

noted  for  its  wild  cattle  and  deer,  and  the  wild  white 
bull  is  still  the  cognizance  of  the  family.  We  toil 
slowly  upwards  to  a  large,  massive  castle,  ^^'hose  l)attle- 
mented  gatehouse  is  tianked  by  towers.  A  shield  of 
arms  shows  a  man  holding  a  bull,  but  the  histories  say 
it  is  a  gritHn  ;  let  any  one  have  the  benefit  of  any  doubt. 
There  are  also  the  lettei-s  T.  H.,  standing  for  Thomas 
Houghton,  who  Iniilt  the  castle  in  1564,  and  had 
a  lawsuit  with  his  architect  or  builder.  ''  Thomas 
Houghton  of  Houghton,  in  the  (Jountie  of  Lancaster, 
Esquier  .  .  .  lawfullie  seased  in  his  Demesne  as  of  fee 
of  and  in  the  Manour  of  Houp'hton  .  .  .  hathe  enter- 
prysed  and  begun  to  buylde  a  Howse  there.   ..." 

Crossing  the  first  courtyard,  we  come  to  a  steep 
flight  of  rounded  steps  with  an  inner  court  or  enclosure 
beyond  them,  then  more  steps,  and  another  gatehouse. 
The  archway  through  this  gatehouse  is  older  than  the 
greater  part  of  the  building,  for  here  was  a  very  strong 
tower  which  the  Royalists  treacherously  and  perfidiously 
blew  up  with  gunpow^ler  when  treating  for  the  sur- 
render of  the  castle.  Captain  Starkey  with  about 
sixty  men  of  the  parliamentarian  army  were  blown  to 
bits,  "a  wofull  blast"  and  "  fearefull  spectacle,"  The 
Royalists  said  it  was  quite  an  accident ;  but  they  had 
taken  care  not  to  be  hurt  themselves,  and  having 
previously  fired  the  beacon  on  the  tower  to  rouse  the 
country-side,  the  friends  of  the  parliament  were  very 
wroth  against  "  the  Papists  and  Malignants,"  and 
the  name  of  Sir  Gilbert  Houghton  was  struck  ofi'  the 
roll  of  the  Justices  of  the  Peace, 

Having  arrived  safely  at  this  furthest  court,  the 
puzzle  was  to  find  the  front  door.  There  were  many 
doors,  and  dogs  barking  in  all  directions.  We  might 
be  blown  up  or  bitten  before  we  could  deliver  our  letter 
from  Sir  James  de  Hou-hton,  who  had  kindly  ofiven 
permission  to  inspect  and  photograph.  We  found  a 
very  substantial,  massive  castle,  built  of  stone,  with 
stone   roof,   many  round  balls  of  stone,  and  everything 


THB    GATKHOUSE 


F   2 


THE    HALL,    HOCIHTON    TOWEU 


88         PILGRIMAGES  TO   OLD    HOMES 

ke]3t  ill  l)eaiitifnl  order.  Tliis  was  better  than  was  to 
be  expected  from  the  writings  of  Ruskiii,  or  some  one 
who  wrote  that  any  one  who  would  put  a  sham  Norman 
prefix  to  their  Anglo-Saxon  or  English  name  would  be 
likely  to  build  a  sham  Gothic  castle,  containing  other 
shams.  It  was  in  1862  that  the  Hoghtons  obtained 
leave  to  affix  the  word  "de"  before  their  name  as  the 
Traftords,  Tableys,  and  others  had  done,  thereby  spoiling 
a  good  old  English  name. 

From  my  earliest  years  I  had  heard  of  Hoghton 
Tower  as  the  scene  of  the  tale  of  the  kino;  and  the 
beef,  and  at  last  I  was  to  see  the  historic  spot.  Pre- 
suming that  all  the  world  knows  that  the  loin  of  beef 
first  became  the  sirloin  when  it  was  knighted  by  the 
pedantic  numskull.  King  James  the  First,  who  had  found 
the  making  of  liaronets  to  be  so  profitable,  they  may 
see  the  })hotograph  of  the  table  at  which  it  was  done 
in  the  right  hand  corner  of  our  pictures  of  the  hall. 
The  king  had  private  apartments,  and  the  table  was 
then  in  another  room,  Avhich  we  did  not  photograph. 
In  those  days  there  was  a  noted  herd  of  the  wild  white 
cattle  in  the  park  or  forest  round  Houghton,  and  it 
seems  to  me  probable  that  His  Sacred  Majesty,  who 
was  not  altogether  without  the  instincts  of  an  animal, 
was  served  with  the  juicy  undercut  of  the  loin  of  a 
wild  heifer,  and,  scarcely  knowing  whether  it  was  beef 
or  venison,  the  king  enjoyed  himself  exceedingly. 

"  Ho  fishes,  drinks,  and  wastes  tlie  lamps  of  night  in  revel." 

The  Sir  Richard  Hougliton  of  that  day  certainly 
treated  his  guests  well.  From  the  local  histories  I 
copy  the  bill-of-fare  for  the  dinner  on  August  1 7, 
16 1 7,  merely  remarking  that  the  ever-famous  sirloin 
of  beef  is  not  mentioned  there,  therefore  the  kiti^- 
had  probably  polished  that  off  at  breakfast,  as  the 
supper  was  merely  a  repetition  of  the  dinner,  with  the 
addition  of  "  wild-l)oar  })ye,  umble  })ve,  red-deer  pve, 
and  neat's  toiiii-ue  tart." 


LANCASHIRE   HOSPITALITY  89 

On  the    Lord's    Day. 
"  For  the  Lords   Table. 

''First  course. — Pullets,  Ijoiled  capon,  mutton  boiled, 
boiled  chickens,  shoulder  of  mutton  roast,  ducks  boiled, 
loin  of  veal  roast,  haunch  of  venison  roast,  Ijurred  capon, 
pasty  of  venison  liot,  roast  turkey,  veal  burred,  swan 
roast,  one,  and  one  for  to-morrow,  chicken  pye  hot,  goose 
roasted,  rabbits  cold,  jiggits  of  nuitton  boiled,  snipe 
pye,  breast  of  veal  boiled,  capons  roast,  pullets,  beef 
roast,  tongue  pye  cold,  sprod  boiled,  herons  roast 
cold,  curlew  pye  cold,  mince  pye  hot,  custards,  pig 
roast. 

"  Second  course. — Hot  pheasant,  one,  and  one  for  the 
king,  quails,  six  for  the  king,  partridge  poults,  arti- 
choke pye,  chickens,  curlew  roast,  peas  buttered,  rabbits, 
ducks,  plovers,  red-deer  pye,  pig  burred,  hot  herons 
roast,  three  of  a  dish,  lamb  roast,  gammon  of  bacon, 
pigeons  roast,  made  dish,  chicken  burred,  pear  tart, 
pullets  and  grease,  dryed  tongues,  turkey  pye,  pheasant 
tart,  hog's  cheeks  dryed,  turkey  chicks  cold." 

The  names  of  all  the  artists  are  given  :  two  chief 
cooks  styled  Mr.,  four  labourers  for  the  pastries,  four 
for  the  ranges  (no  nasty  cooking  in  gas-ovens  here), 
two  for  boiling,  and  two  for  pullets.  The  last  two 
probably  were  dressers  of  the  game  and  poultry.  Dr. 
Morton,  the  Bishop  of  Chester,  preached ;  he  would 
probably  give  the  benediction  also,  while  his  mouth 
watered  for  the  good  things  provided.  But  why  did 
they  boil  the  ducks,  or  eat  fishy  heron  or  curlew  cold  ? 
Sprod  is  a  local  name  for  salmon-trout  when  first  re- 
turned from  the  sea.  A  "jiggit"  or  gigot,  of  mutton  is 
the  leg  and  loin.  The  word  "  burred  "  is  not  to  be  found 
in  the  dictionaries.  I  have  little  doubt  it  means  the 
same  as  the  local  terms,  bishoped,  or  devilled — that  is, 
willed  on  red-hot  coals. 


90         PILGEIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

On  the  same  day  a  great  petition  was  presented  to 
the  king  from  tlie  connnon  folk  of  Lancashire,  who  com- 
plained that  they  had  been  deprived  of  all  their  lawful 
recreations  on  the  Sabbath.  They  were  not  allowed  to 
have  music,  bull-baitings,  bear-baitings,  games,  ales, 
wakes,  &c..  on  the  Sabbath,  or  on  holy  days.  His 
Sacred  Majesty  felt  jolly  after  his  good  dinner,  and 
sympathised  with  them.  Shortly  after,  he  issued  a 
notable  proclamation,  saying  that  "  papists  and  puritans 
much  infested  His  county  of  Lancaster,  but  His  pleasure 
was,  they  should  either  conform  or  leave."  Briefly,  the 
narrow-minded  bio-ot  commanded  that  those  who  went 
to  churcli — that  is,  His  church,  of  ^^■hich  He  was  the 
Defender  of  the  Faith — could  do  as  they  pleased  after- 
wards ;  but  if  they  did  not  go  to  church  they  must 
have  no  recreation  or  games,  and  quit  His  country. 

'•  Then  to  supp.  Then  about  ten  o'clock  a  Maske  of 
Noblemen,  Knights,  Gentlemen,  and  Courtiers,  afore 
the  King,  in  the  middle  round  in  the  garden.  Some 
Speeches,  of  the  rest,  dancing  the  Huckler,  Tom  Bedlo, 
and  the  Cowp  Justice  of  Peace."  This  quotation  is  from 
the  private  journal  of  Nicholas  Assheton,  Esquire, 
who  says  that  he  and  other  neighbours  dressed  in  the 
livery  of  the  Houghtons  for  the  occasion.  The  vain 
king  wore  green,  with  a  big  feather  in  his  cap  and  a 
horn  at  his  side.  A  further  confession  says :  "  Wee 
were  desvred  to  be  merrie  and  at  nyght  were  soe.  .  .  . 
He  to  seller  and  drunk  with  us  kindlie  in  all  manner  of 
friendlie  speake,  as  merrie  as  Ilo])in  Hood  and  all  his 
fellowes.  .  .  .  This  morning  wee  plaid  the  Bacchana- 
lians"— "the  riot  of  the  tipsy  Bacchanals."  All  parties 
appear  to  have  discreetly  suppressed  any  account  of 
what  they  drank  in  the  "  seller,"  or  any  approximate 
estimate  of  the  quantity.  None  of  my  friends  can  tell 
me  anything  about  "  dancing  the  Huckler."  Perhaps 
the  word  should  have  been  spelt  "  hustler."  "  Tom 
Bedlo  '    is    evidently  Tom-a-Bedlam,   a    name   given   to 


92         PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD    HOMES 

madmen  who  had  been,  or  ought  to  be,  in  Bedlam,  the 
famous  madhouse  called  after  Bethlehem.  Under  the 
circumstances  we  can  forgive  the  author  of  the  journal 
some  vagaries  in  spelling.  His  last-recorded  amuse- 
ment means  Coups  or  Jousts  in  Peace — that  is,  a  sham 
tournament.  Football  could  be  nothing  to  a  tournament, 
if  the  gallant  cavaliers  were  not  too  drunk  to  charge. 

"Midnight  shout  and  reveh-ie, 
Tijisie  dance  and  jollitie. 
Braid  your  locks  with  rosie  twine, 
Dropping  odours,  dropping  wine. 
Eigor  now  is  gone  to  bed 
And  Advice  with  scrup'hms  head  : 
Strict  Age  and  sow  re  Severitie 
With  their  graue  8awes  in  slumber  lie." 

The  glorious  day  at  last  \vas  done,  leaving  Hoghton 
Tower  for  ever  memorable  as  the  place  where  the  wise 
king  knighted  the  loin  of  beef  and  told  his  faithful 
people  what  sports  lie  would  allow  on  Sunday.  Then 
he  caused  "  The  Book  of  Sports "  to  be  published  and 
read  in  all  churches  on  Sundays,  and  some  say  that  had 
an  appreciable  effect  in  bringing  on  the  Civil  War.  It 
seems  strange  that,  after  all  this  rejoicing  about  the  first 
King  James,  there  shoidd  be  in  the  inner  courtyard 
a  PTand  statue  of  the  Dutchman  who  frio-htened  his 
grandson,  the  second  James,  out  of  England.  Why  not 
rename  the  statue,  William  the  Conqueror,  in  the  act  of 
forfeiting  the;  manors  of  the  conquered  English  ?  The 
modern  name  of  the  lords  is  bastard  Norman. 

The  "  Howse  which  Houghton  of  Houghton,  Esquier, 
enterprysed  to  buylde  and  ffynysh  in  1562  "  still  stands, 
a  magniricent  specimen  of  the  baronial  residence  when 
the  Englishman's  house  was  literally  his  castle,  when 
wealth  increased  and  times  appeared  more  peaceful.  A 
relic  of  the  feudal  ages,  it  was  perclied  on  high  like  the 
nest  of  an  eagle,  and  as  if  to  justify  its  existence,  war,  in 
its  worst  form,  and  horrible  treachery  followed  it.  From 
its  topmost  tower  the  fiery  beacon  flares  no  more  to  rouse 


94 


PILGRIMAGES    TO   OLD    HOMES 


the  country-side  to  war.  The  smoke  that  darkens  all 
the  boundless  plain  around  is  not  the  smoke  of  burning 
homes  or  hostile  camps,  nor  is  the  stained  stream  of 
Dar'en  dyed  with  blood  of  Scots  or  Englishmen,  for  in 
our  land  in  our  time,  thank  God  !  there  is  peace. 


Wll ALLEY    CROSS 


YALE-BALA 


ONE  of  our  little  pilgrimages  that  was  marred 
by  the  wet  weather  of  rQ03  was  to  find 
Yale,  the  lonely  spot  in  the  Welsh  mountains 
that  was  the  home  of  the  Yales  for  ages,  and  is 
still  theirs  two  hundred  years  after  a  wandering  member 
of  the  fiimily  had  his  name  perpetuated  in  what  has 
grown  to  be  the  great  University  of  Yale  in  America. 

On  a  fine  breezy  morning  we  had  taken  the  train 
to  Wrexham,  struggled  uphill  for  about  five  miles  with 
coal-pits  or  other  works  around,  risen  against  the  wind 
for  a  thousand  feet,  wrestled  with  the  incomprehensible 
language,  and  finally,  like  many  other  intruders  into 
the  wilderness  of  the  Welsh  hills,  been  driven  "weather- 
beaten  back." 

The  Welsh  pronunciation  of  any  language  tends  to 
make  an  Englishman  ill,  while  the  Celtic  evasions 
exasperate  him.  The  following  is  a  fairly  correct 
verbatim  report  of  a  dialogue,  without  attempting  to 
write  it  phonetically,  I  had  at  a  small  shop  near  to 
diverging  roads  at  Bwlchgwyn  :  — 

"  Can  you  speak  English  {  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  for  sure.     Yes,  yes." 

"  Would  you  tell  me  the  ^^'ay,  please,  to  Plas-vn-Yale 
or  Bryn  Eglwys  {  " 

"  Oh,  well  indeed.  You  can  go  either  way.  You 
can,  sure." 

"  Which  is  the  better  way  for  good  roads  ? " 

"  Well,  well,  the  roads  are  not  so  bad  indeed. 
There's  worse  roads  than  these,  sure.  There's  some 
downhills.      There  is.      Yes,  yes." 

"  How  many  miles  is  it  ?  " 


96         PILGKIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

"  Oh,  it  is  some  miles.  Yes,  indeed.  It  may  be 
five  miles.  Oh  yes  ;  it  may  be  ten.  It  is  some  miles, 
sure ;  but  there  is  some  downhills,  and  there's  worse 
roads  than  these.     Dear  me.     Yes,  yes." 

"What  place  is  this?" 

"Oh,  this!  Well,  well.  This  is  the  coldest  place 
on  earth.  It  is,  sure.  And  there's  winds ;  that's  why 
it's  cold.      Yes,  indeed." 

"  But  what  do  you  call  the  place  ?  " 

"  Oh,  its  name,  sure,  in  Welsh." 

Then  he  spit  out  words  that  sounded  as  if  they 
began  with  capital  B's  and  were  made  up  of  double 
consonants  all  through.  My  approximate  rendering  of 
it  would  be  "  Bloody  Gulch." 

We  turned  our  backs  to  the  storms  and  wind,  and 
scudded  downhill  to  return  to  Wrexham,  for  there  is 
a  church  that  is  one  of  the  seven  wonders  of  Wales, 
and  the  town  apparently  rejoices  in  its  civilisation  and 
prosperity.  The  smell  of  the  ale  in  tlie  churchyard 
was  so  strong  that  it  would  have  led  or  driven  many 
men  to  drink.  We  hear  of  the  connection  of  beer 
and  the  Bible,  but  it  does  seem  rather  brazen-faced 
to  put  church,  brewery,  and  poorhouse  close  together. 
Perhaps  the  bad  weather  affected  us,  for  when  I  ven- 
tured to  remark  about  the  time  X  was  taking  to 
photograph,  he  said  the  day  was  dark  and  the  plates 
were  like  our  minds  and  wanted  longer  exjDosures. 

So  I  left  him  and  went  to  church,  where  I  soon 
found  a  brass  inscribed  with  praise  and  poetry. 

"  Here  lyes  a  church  warden 
A  choyce  flower  in  that  Garden 

Witliout  doubt  he  is  Blest." 

Of  course  a  churchwarden  with  brass  would  be 
Blest.  Could  any  one  with  a  knowledge  of  both  worlds 
doubt  it  ?  But  why  post  it  up  in  the  church  i  Per- 
haps the  time-honoured    j^rayer,    "  Upon    his   soul    may 


WliEXHAM    CHURCH 


98 


PILGRIMAGES   To   OLD   HOMES 


God  have  mercy,"  would  be  thought  perilously  wicked 
here. 

The  tomb  of  Yale  is  in  the  churchyard  l)y  the 
western  door,  and  as  Americans  may  wish  to  know 
what    is  written    on    it,    and    g'uide-books    seldom   copy 


f^'idji^^^yi 


TOMB    OF    ELIHU    YALE,    FOUNDER   OF    YALE    UNIVERSITY 

anything  correctly,  I  took  especial  care  to  haye  a  correct 
version,  and  check  the  photograph. 

"  Born  in  America  ;  in  Eurojte  bred  ; 
In  Africa  travell'd,  and  in  Asia  wed, 
AVhere  long  he  liv'd  and  tliriv'd  ;  in  London  dead. 
Mucli  good,  some  ill,  lie  did  :  so  hope  all's  even. 
And  that  his  soul  thro'  mercy's  gone  to  Heaven. 
You  that  survive  and  read  this  tale,  take  care, 
For  this  most  certain  exit  to  prepare  ; 
Where,  blest  in  peace,  the  actions  of  the  just 
Smell  sweet,  and  blossom  in  the  silent  dust." 


ELIHU   YALE 


99 


The  other  side  of  the  tomb  siiii]jly  records,  under  the 
letters  M.  S.,  the  burial  of  EHugh  Yale.  Es(|.,  on  2  2]id 
July  1721  ;  and  on  the  end  we  are  told  it  was  restored 
bv  the  authorities  of  Yale  Colleo^e,  United  States. 

Yale,  I  am  told,  is  a  corruption  of  the  old  Welsh 
word  lal,  meanino-  pleasant  ;  and  though  the  hills  of 
Yale  may  be  pleasant  enough  in  tlie  summer-time, 
they  look  to  me  as  if  they  had  far  more  of  the  winter 
and  rough  weather.  In  the  early  years  of  the  Civil 
War,  one  David  left  these  pjleasant  hills  to  find  a  better 
home  across  the  ocean.  Whether  he  went  for  relio-ious 
liberty,  safety,  or  from  ])enurv  we  do  not  know  ;  Ijut 
in  America,  probably  at  Newhaven,  Connecticut,  in 
1648  he  had  a  son  who  was  named  Elihu. 

The  family  returned  to  England  in  1652,  settliuf/ 
in  London,  and  in  1672  Ehhu  went  to  Lidia  in  the 
service  of  the  East  India  Company.  He  appears  to  have 
risen  rapidly,  as  men  do  in  India,  unless  they  die.  At 
the  age  of  thirty-nine  he  \vas  Governor  of  Fort  St. 
George,  Madras  ;  but  he  nnist  have  made  money  too 
quickly,  for  in  five  years  he  was  suspended  and  (juariel- 
ling  with  his  governors.  One  tale  is  that  he  hanged  his 
groom  and  had  to  pay  /,  20,000  fine,  which  is  a  big 
price  for  a  groom  in  India.  Probablv  it  is  not  true, 
or  the  man  deserved  hanging  ;  for  neai-lv  everv  one  of 
the  high  officials  in  India  were  accused  of  all  sorts  of 
crimes.  Those  in  the  ring  were  jealous  of  them,  and 
the  lawyers  wanted  to  share  the  plunder.  Even  to-day, 
if  a  man  is  thought  to  have  made  monev  quicklv  he 
is  lucky  if  he  escape  blackmail.  The  ''most  respect- 
able "  lawyers  will  prosecute  the  most  unjust  cases  to 
the  ruin  of  any  one  if  thev  can  sav  thev  are  actinof  for 
a  client,  while  all  the  time  thev  are  hired  assassins. 
The  murderers  hired  by  Macbeth  or  other  villains 
merely  acted  for  their  clients. 

After  the  Honourable  East  India  Companv  had 
got  all  they  could,   they  took  Ehhu    into   partnership, 


loo      PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

making  him  one  of  their  governors,  for  he  had  evidently 
something  "  in  him."  He  brought  so  many  things  home 
from  India  that  he  had  a  sale  by  auction  of  them — that 
was  about  i  700 — and  is  said  to  be  the  first  auction  sale 
that  was  ever  held. 

One  of  the  Hakluyt  Society's  publications  gives 
several  interestino-  bits  about  Governor  Yale.  "  Wee 
could  likewise  desire  our  new  President,  Mr.  Yale,  whom 
God  hath  l^lessed  with  so  great  an  estate  in  our  Service, 
to  set  on  foot  another  o-enerous  charitable  work — that  is, 
the  building  of  a  Church  for  the  Protestant  blacks  .  .  . 
get  our  common  Prayers  translated  into  the  Portugueze 
Dialect  of  India.  ..."  The  scandals  about  the  married 
women  are  discreetly  forgotten  there. 

The  Company's  servants  were  paid  ^5  a  year  when 
they  were  sent  out,  with  advances  up  to  ^20  and  leave  to 
trade  honestlv  without  prejudice  to  the  Company,  They 
doubtless  learnt  the  trade  with  the  honesty,  and  even 
Governor  Yale  was  accused  of  "  drivino^  a  o-reater  trade 
than  the  Company."  Here  is  an  extract  from  a  letter 
written  to  him  by  John  Pitt  in  1704  :  ",  ,  ,  comfortable 
news  for  you  .  ,  .  a  supercargo  dying  said  he  had  injured 
you.  .  ,  ,  I  told  him  I  was  your  attorney,  and  if  he  dy'd 
without  restitution  he  would  certainly  be  damn'd.  I 
made  his  Confessor  give  him  an  hourly  memento  of  the 
same  and  he  was  very  active  in  it  soe  that  at  the  last 
gasp  he  began  to  make  a  will  ,  .  .  but  before  compleated 
he  dy'd  .  .  .  which  I  gott  into  our  court,  recover'd  the 
money,  and  have  gott  it  to  send  you  ...  or  good  and 
cheap  Diamonds,"  So  the  attorney  and  the  confessor, 
the  law  and  the  church,  pestered  the  last  gasp  out  of  the 
dying  man  and  seized  the  money  without  the  will,  the 
next-of-kin  being  probably  halfway  across  the  world. 

In  171 8  Yale  was  appealed  to  for  help  to  Ijuild  the 
collefjiate  school  of  CJonnecticut.  His  father  had  emi- 
grated  there,  and  probal)ly  he  was  l)orn  there,  seventy 
years   before.      He   sent    a   cargo    of  books    and    things 


fllA  *^1 


n  ^ 


WEST    END    OF    WREXHAM    CHUKCII.    AND    TOMB    OF    ELIJIU    VALE 


G  2 


102       PILGRIMAGES    TO   OLD   HOMES 

which  they  valued  at  /,Sco,  besides  a  few  minor  gifts. 
It  seems  little  to  us  now,  but  was  a  great  deal  then. 
The  seed  w^as  opportunely  sowed  on  hard  but  good 
ground.  A  portrait  of  Elihu  is  now  in  the  Yale  College. 
He  is  litei-allv  "  a  bio:  wio-  "  and  looks  well  satisfied  with 
himself  and  all  tilings.  His  house  at  Plas  Gronow, 
Wrexliam,  lias  gone,  and  his  body  was  buried  in  the 
churchyard.  Its  value  will  increase  with  the  time  that 
turns  it  to  dust ;  for  if  the  Americans  make  the  fuss 
they  are  now  doing  for  the  remains  of  Paul  Jones  the 
pirate,  what  should  they  give  for  the  body  of  their 
benefactor  \  It  will  be  diamond  cut  diamond  in  old- 
fashioned  bargaining  when  the  Yankee  meets  the  parson  ; 
and  when  the  latter  shuts  his  eyes  and  takes  the 
almighty  dollar,  may  the  Archangel  Michael  with  all  his 
experience  be  there  to  see  fair-})lay. 

As  nothing  would  induce  X  to  face  the  Welsh  hills 
and  roads  again,  an.d  I  had  nothing  to  do  in  the  very  fine 
Whit-week  of  1 905  excepting  a  share  of  duty  at  the 
county  police  court,  I  took  a  change  of  the  more  neces- 
sary clothes  on  my  bicycle,  maps  and  sandwiches  in 
pocket,  and  went  by  train  to  Wrexham  for  a  lonely 
pilgrimage  over  the  stormy  hills  of  Wales.  It  was  I'ain- 
ing  when  I  left  home  ;  but  the  glass  was  high  and  the 
wdPid  in  the  north-east.  On  the  hills  it  was  fair,  and  the 
wind  was  with  me.  The  lilacs  and  hawthorns  were 
struggling  to  flower,  the  date  being  thirteenth  of  June, 
and  ours  at  Didsbury  had  been  over  about  a  fortnight. 
x\.  mile  beyond  where  we  had  turned  back,  the  road 
passed  through  black  boggy  moorland  and  then  began  to 
descend  ;  on  the  whole,  it  was  fairly  good,  for  there  was 
no  traffic.  The  wind  blew  from  just  the  opposite  quarter 
to  what  it  did  when  we  were  on  these  hills  before,  and  I 
scudded  before  it.  The  country  on  my  right  became 
more  like  a  park,  and  the  rabbits  were  so  crowded,  even 
on  the  road,  that  I  had  to  take  care  they  did  not  get  into 


THE   HOME   OF   THE   YALES  103 

my  wheels.  I  could  not  see  a  house,  Ijut  the  place  was  Plas- 
yn-Yale  ;  for  soon  I  saw  the  little  church  of  Bryn  Eglwys 
upon  its  steep  mound  surrounded  with  its  tine  dark  yews. 
The  lane  or  path  to  it  is  a  stiff  climb  for  any  one,  and  ends 
at  an  inn  which  seems  to  bar  tlie  way  to  tlie  church.  It 
is  a  good  example  of  the  primitive  custom  of  having  an  inn 
by  a  church  ;  for  even  if  we  have  no  pity  on  the  victims 
of  long  sermons,  many  a  bridal  or  funeral  party  would 
have  to  toil  and  struggle  up  that  steep  and  narrow  patli. 

There  is  little  of  antiquity  to  see  about  this  quaint  old 
church.  Two  oaken  pillars  mark  the  Yale  chapel  from  the 
chancel.  The  pulpit  is  old,  and  a  framed  extract  from 
the  will  of  Eliza  Flora  Yale  is  on  the  wall.  I  rested  in 
the  dense  shade  of  the  yew-trees  and  enjoyed  the  scenery 
around.  On  a  knoll  in  a  fertile  vale  is  this  hill  church  ; 
whitewashed  fjirms  are  dotted  up  and  down,  and  the 
green  fields  merge  into  brow^n  moors  that,  in  their  turn, 
become  lost  in  the  bluer  mountains. 

On  the  ground  adjoining  the  churchyard,  which  is 
steeper  than  the  roof  of  a  house,  an  old  man  and  a 
young  one  were  earnestly  chattering.  I  went  to  them 
for  information.  The  old  man  was  deaf,  or  would  not 
bother  with  English  ;  but  the  young  one  lifted  his  cap 
as  if  he  had  been  to  a  Sunday  school,  thought  slowly 
as  he  mentallv  translated  my  questions  into  Welsh  and 
their  answers  back  into  English,  and  civilly  told  me 
all  that  he  could.  They  were  absorbed  in  the  great 
question  of  potatoes,  and  doubtless  knew  better  how  to 
grow  and  cook  potatoes  there  than  all  the  professors  in 
Yale  University  could  tell  them.  Their  patch  of  oats  and 
contentment  was  better  than  the  wheat-pit  of  Chicago. 

My  eye  caught  a  name  on  a  gravestone  that  rather 
shocked  me,  for  I  read  "  Ananias  Jones,"  and  wondered 
whether  some  of  the  pedigrees  going  back  to  the 
Apostles  (and  beyond)  were  correct.  Perhaps  I  misread 
the  Welsh,  but  on  another  stone  the  name  "  Maggie 
Beans"  was  evidently  very  English.     I  had  picked  up  a 


I04       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

book  in  the  road  tliat  morning;  it  was  called  "'The  Sinner," 
and  inside  it  was  the  name,  "  H.  Jones."  As  I  had  not 
met  one  person  to  the  mile,  it  seemed  strange  to  find  a 
respectable-looking  book  there.  Had  it  been  cast  like 
bread  iijjon  the  waters,  or  seed  sown  by  the  w^ayside  ?  I 
gave  it  to  the  first  stonebreaker,  although  it  would  Ije  hard 
to  sin  at  stonebreaking  ;  but  in  English  as  broken  as  his 
stones  he  said  he  might  know  a  man  named  Jones  who 
perhaps  was  a  sinner,  and  maybe  he  would  give  it  to  him. 

Finding  the  day  kept  fine  and  pleasant,  I  journeyed 
on  for  Bala.  The  country  was  more  fertile  in  the  lower 
grouiids  ;  sheep-shearing  was  in  progress,  the  hawthorns 
in  bloom,  and  the  voice  of  the  cuckoo  wandering  round. 
A  bit  of  the  Holvhead  road  was  an  abomination,  for 
there  the  motor-cars,  with  the  dust  and  stink  of  civilisa- 
tion, were  an  abhorrence  ;  but  1  soon  turned  into  the  hills 
again,  and  was  well  pleased  with  the  scenery  round  Bala. 

A  bed  was  secured  and  a  good  tea  enjoyed  by  post- 
time  at  seven,  and  then,  in  a  lovelv  June  evenino^,  I 
strolled  slowly  up  the  road  by  the  side  of  the  lake.  A 
fairer  scene  no  one  could  wish  for.  Lio-ht  and  shade 
chased  one  another  over  the  hills  as  the  clouds  were 
blown  before  the  wind,  and  the  sinking  sun  tinted  all 
with  many  colours.  The  water  changed  from  glittering 
silver  to  deepest  blue.  The  lofty  peaks  of  the  Arans 
reminded  me  of  the  Langdales,  but  even  as  I  looked  the 
rolling  mists  came  down  them,  and  heeding  not  the 
warning,  I  wandered  on  to  the  beautiful  little  church- 
yard of  Llanycil,  the  old  church  of  Bala.  It  stands  by 
the  waterside  as  churches  in  Norway  where  the  })eople 
come  in  boats.  Grand  old  yews  surround  it,  and  its 
God's  acre  is  encircled  by  the  glowing  mountains  and 
the  glittering  waters  of  the  lake.  On  its  bellcot  croaked 
a  jackdaw,  and  in  the  long  grass  croaked  the  crakes  as 
waning  light  caused  me  to  turn  for  bed.  Soon  the  big 
drops  fell,  and  the  village  folk  were  praying  for  rain. 
On  a  seat  under  a  spreading  sycamore  I  sat  and  listened 


BALA   AND   THE   BERWYNS  105 

to  the  pattering  on  the  leaves  as  the  rain  descended  and 
the  hills  darkened  all  around.  It  was  all  very  pleasant 
until  the  deluge  came  with  a  tempest,  then  I  had  to 
make  myself  as  small  as  possihle  and  crouch  against  the 
trunk.  The  furies  lifted  up  the  lake  and  seemed  to 
pour  the  water  out  upon  the  land.  Everything  and 
everywhere  was  soaked.  At  last  I  hurried  to  the  hotel, 
had  a  glass  of  milk,  and  went  to  bed. 

Up  betimes  in  the  morning,  by  eight  o'clock  had 
started  for  the  pass  over  the  Berwyns,  crossing  the  foot 
of  the  lake  by  the  bridge  Mwnogl-y-Llyn,  and  through 
the  village  of  Rhosygwaliau,  where  is  an  old  house  named 
Rhiwfedog,  meaning  bloody  cliff,  whicli  the  guide-books 
say  bears  boreal  blasts,  and  was  the  home  of  a  beautiful 
poet  who  had  lost  twenty-four  sons  in  battle,  but  composed 
Welsli  poetry,  for  he  could  not  sleep.  I  was  too  frightened 
of  the  name  to  ask  about  the  place.  The  narrow  winding 
lane  went  up  and  down  and  round  sharp  corners,  with 
children,  dogs,  and  cats  all  about  the  village  ;  but  gradu- 
ally I  got  into  the  woods,  where  it  was  cool  and  dark, 
quiet  but  for  the  songs  of  the  birds,  damp,  and  refresh - 
inp;.     Above  the  woods  came  the  moors  in  brilliant  \hjht. 

The  trees  changed  and  disappeared,  and  more  inte- 
restinof  than  the  varvino^  veofetation  was  the  chanj^e  in 
the  varieties  of  the  birds.  Wagtails  were  common  by 
the  lower  streams  ;  redstarts  were  in  the  banks  ;  a  golden - 
crested  wren  hunc:  on  the  end  of  a  fir  bouLrh  over  the 
ascending  lane ;  brown-headed  gulls  flapped  leisurely 
over  the  fields  and  moors  on  the  higher  ground,  their 
pale  wings  showing  beautifully  against  the  varying 
greens ;  the  wandering  cuckoo  was  all  around ;  then 
came  the  call  of  the  ^rrouse  and  the  whistle  of  the 
curlew.  At  stepping-stones  across  a  stream  I  lay  down 
and  lapped,  much  to  the  annoyance  of  sandpipers  who 
had  a  nest  or  young  about  the  spot.  Tlie  climb  became 
very  stiff*.  It  was  impossible  to  cycle  even  in  descent, 
for  the  narrow  path  was  of  loose  shale,  with  a  precipice 


io6       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD    HOMES 

of  two  to  three  Imndred  feet  sheer  down  for  nearly 
a  mile.  The  first  hour  I  had  travelled  four  miles  ;  in  tlie 
second  hour  three,  and  was  about  the  top  of  the  pass. 
As  I  went  round  a  corner,  a  greyish  black  wolf  ap- 
parently was  asleep  in  the  path.  It  came  liercely 
toward  me,  when  a  shepherd  lazily  rose  from  behind  a 
rock  to  scold  it.  Further  on  an  old  man  was  washino- 
his  socks  and  shirt  in  a  stream.  It  startled  me  to 
wonder  whether  that  was  the  same  water  from  which 
I  had  been  drinking,  but  consideration  comforted  me. 
On  returning  I  found  the  old  man's  washing  was  drying 
on  tlie  rocks,  while  he  was  cleansing  tufts  of  lost  wool 
that  he  had  found.  The  water,  w4ien  he  had  done 
with  it,  would  go  to  Liverpool,  where,  no  doubt,  they 
would  put  sometliing  in  to  kill  the  microbes. 

With  botli  brakes  hard  on  I  bumped  down  to  Lake 
Vyrnwy,  The  gutters  made  across  the  path  by  de- 
scending streams  were  taken  by  the  bicycle  as  a  hunter 
takes  fences  in  his  stride.  It  was  rough  and  dangerous 
travelling,  not  fit  for  vehicles,  and  yet  it  is  constantly 
used,  though  I  never  met  any  one  all  day. 

The  sudden  and  steep  drop  from  the  primitive  track 
over  the  wild  hills  brings  us  to  the  smooth  and  stately 
road  that  winds  all  round  the  beautiful  though  artificial 
lake  of  Vyrnwy.  For  eleven  miles  we  can  roll  along  a 
level  way  in  lovely  scenery  of  mountains  that  descend 
into  the  water  in  many  a  steep  and  shapely  curve.  It 
was  a  fine  June  day  when  I  went  round,  and  the  broom, 
the  azalea,  the  hawthorn,  were  in  their  glory  though  late 
in  the  season  ;  for  their  elevation  is  nearly  a  thousand  feet 
above  the  sea.  This  great  reservoir  of  water  for  Liverpool 
is  a  grand  work  well  done  ;  of  supreme  utilitv  and  very 
beautiful,  for  art  has  added  to  the  charms  of  nature. 

The  lonely  hotel  is  perched  on  high  above  the 
lake,  an  excellent  place  to  rest — when  you  have  got 
there.  1  struggled  back  to  Bala ;  after  an  early  tea 
went  on  to  C^orwen,  where  was  a  train  for  Manchester, 


LAKE   VYENWY 


107 


and  I  went  for  home.  It  was  unnecessarily  hard  work, 
for  I  must  have  cycled  fifty  miles,  including  twice  the 
steep  pass  over  the  Berwyns  ;  but  it  was  a  well-spent 
and  happy  day.  The  train  from  Chester  to  Manchester 
went  the  thirty-eight  miles  under  the  hour  though  it 
was  in  Whit-week,  and  as  the  long  June  day  was 
darkening  I  cycled  the  six  miles  to  home  through  the 
streets  of  the  city  in  forty  minutes. 


STUDYING    THE    MAP 


THE    HALL 


A 


HADDON   HALL 


CHARMING  home  of  many  ages  is  Haddoii 
Hall,  well  known  to  all  the  world,  and  there- 
fore little  shall  he  written  of  it  here :  for 
tourists  throno-  its  courts  and  stairs  :  in  corners 
giggle  about  Dorothy ;  suck  oranges  upon  its  famous 
terrace,  and  munch  their  '•  bao-o-ino- "  wherever  they  can 
find  a  place  to  rest.  It  is  in  the  midst  of  Derbyshire,  a 
county  cyclists  should  avoid ;  i'or  if  the  summer  sun 
shines  warmly,  its  roads  are  limekilns,  glaring  white 
with  dust  that  settles  in  and  on  and  round  the 
traveller — encrustinfr.  irritating:  lime.  Kain  soon  turns 
the  dust  to  slippery  slime  ;  but,  fine  or  wet,  the  hills  are 
many,  steep,  and  Ijare,  and  the  cattle,  with  every  creep- 
incr  thinof,  are  of  the  sort  that  is  known  as  '^  skinny." 

The  house  itself  is  such  a  line  example  of  so  many 
ages  of  an  English  home,  and  is  so  well  preserved,  that 
although  books  of  all  sizes  have  been  written  about  it, 
we  must  o;ive  some  record  of  it  here,  \yhen  oriirinally 
built,  it  was  not  allowed  to  be  fortified,  and  therefore 
it  escaped  sieges  and  is  here  now.  For  about  two 
hundred  years  it  has  not  been  inhabited.  It  is  well 
kept,  and  has,  doubtless,  a  considerable  income. 

As  might  be  expected,  the  oldest  bits  are  in  the 
chapeL  Of  the  i'ourteenth-century  hall  we  give  two 
illustration.s.  The  upright  one  shows  the  screen  near 
to  the  outer  M-all,  whereon  is  the  fetter-lock  or  wristlet 
for  fastening  up  a  man's  arm.  When  to  be  "as  drunk 
as  a  lord  "  was  a  mark  of  high  culture,  men  ^^■ho  would 
not  or  could  not  drink  their  share  had  the  drink  })()uied 


112       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

on  them  ;  but  1  have  experienced  that  in  our  degenerate 
days  without  any  fetter-lock.  Even  in  city  feasts  "  pop  " 
is  now  provided  for  the  abstemious.  The  other  picture 
of  the  hall  shows  the  half-closed  dosf-fi'ates  that  were 
made  to  ]irevent  the  dogs  from  going  upstairs,  and 
the   worn-out  high   table  on  the  rigiit. 


i'i;i\A  ri-:  uining-uho.m 


Behind  the  dais  of  the  great  hall  is  the  more  modern 
room,  now  called  the  dining  room.  Its  panelling  and 
decorations  are  interestino-  in  beincr  of  c^reat  a<2:e,  older 
than  those  in  the  upper  rooms,  although  later  than 
those  in  the  hall.  There  is  a  date  1545,  many  shields 
of  arms,  portraits  in  oak,  and  over  the  fireplace  in 
very  quaint  letters,  "  Drede  God  and  Honor  the  Kyng." 


HADDON   HALL  113 

Perhaps  some  old  Tory  may  say  they  spelt  "  Honor"  as 
if  they  were  Americans  and  did  not  quote  the  Autliorised 
Version  correctly  ;  but  there  were  no  Yankees,  and  no 
"  Authorised  Version  "  when  that  wood  was  carved. 

The  room  above  is  the  drawino--room,  of  later  date 
and  lighter  style,  with  ornamental  plaster  frieze  and 
geometric-patterned  ceiling.  Its  walls  are  hung  with 
tapestry  or  panelled,  still  bearing  traces  of  the  green 
and  gold  that  once  adorned  them.  Remnants  of  furniture 
are  left,  and  the  terraced  garden  is  down  below,  with  the 
river  further  down  windino-  round-  the  enclosinof  hills. 

Several  curious,  complicated  rooms,  opening  from 
one  another  and  the  drawing-room,  are  called  the  Earl's 
apartments,  and  across  a  passage  are  huge  semicircular 
steps  leading  to  the  well-known  ballroom  or  gallery. 
The  steps  and  the  floor-boards,  which  are  from  one  to 
two  feet  in  breadth,  are  said  to  have  been  made  from 
one  of  the  park  oaks.  As  chapters  innumerable  have 
been  written  about  this  room,  we  will  2:0  on  and  see 
the  door  and  steps  used  by  Dorothy  in  her  romantic 
flight  sixty  odd  years  before  they  were  made,  for  the 
prosaic  accounts  of  stewards  and  the  lively  imagination 
of  authors  contradict  one  another. 

The  state  bed  is  such  an  awful  structure  that  only 
duchesses  could  be  expected  to  sleep  in  it.  It  was 
taken  to  Bel  voir  for  George  IV.,  but  was  soon  brought 
back  again,  although  it  may  not  have  been  all  the  fault 
of  the  bed  if  His  Gracious  Majesty  did  not  sleep  com- 
fortably. It  is  fourteen  and  a  half  feet  high,  with 
hangings  of  green  silk  velvet  and  white  satin  em- 
broidered with  fine  needlework  wrought  by  a  lady  in 
the  fifteenth  century,  and  has  the  family  cradle  beside 
it.      What  more  could  any  one  wish  for  { 

There  is  a  verv  curious  washino--tallv  with  revolvino- 
discs  and  columns  for  "  Kufies,"  "  Sockes,"  &c.  The  floor 
of  the  room  is  of  concrete,  and  here  also  are  tapestries, 
with  many  other  tilings  to  see,  not   forgetting  tlie  rack 

H 


THE   BALLROOM 


THE  STATE   BED 


THE   TERRACE,    HADDON  117 

for  stringing  bows  bv  the  guard-room  beyond,  and  where 
Jewitt's  guide-book  says  '"  iiinuinerable  bats  built  tlieir 
nests  "  I 

The  terraced  garden  that  runs  alongside  the  pro- 
jecting bays  and  oriels  of  Haddon  is  the  best-known 
glory  of  the  place.  Other  pleasure-grounds  there  are 
higher  up  the  hill ;  ;i  disused,  forgotten  butts  for 
archery  ;  an  acre  of  bowling-green  ;  and,  nearer  to  the 
hall,  a  Ijroad  avenue  of  tall  sycamores,  called  Dorothy's 
Walk,  or  the  Rookery.  Another  descent  brinijs  one 
to  the  ^vinter  garden,  near  to  the  door  of  the  elope- 
ment, Avhere  tlie  trees  are  yews  and  the  shade  of  them 
dense  enouo-h  for  any  o-irl  to  i)lay  at  beino-  Dorothy. 
It  seems  heartless  to  say  there  could  be  little  or  no 
shade  from  them  in  her  time.  The  balustrade  that 
runs  along  this  terraced  walk,  the  twenty-six  steps 
that  lead  into  the  upper  garden  that  is  below,  with 
the  Vmckgrouiid  of  oriel  windows,  dark  yews,  lofty 
sycamores  and  hill,  all  together  form  what  is  perhaps 
the  best-known  garden  scene  in  the  world. 

The  followino-  are  .some  shortened  selections  of  the 
"  Expencs  ot  the  howsholde  at  Haddon  "  as  published  by 
the  custodian  of  the  mumiments  there.  The  first  relates 
to  the  immortal  Dorothy  when  she  was  fiye  years  old, 
and  they  paid  threepence  for  "  a  payer  of  hosse  "  for  her. 

"  Itm  .  .  .  yis  Master-schepe  dyd  loa.sse  at  ye  dys.se       .  .  vj'*  viij'' 

It.  payde  for  iiij  Chekyiis  for  my  Mast'"   ....  iiij'' 

It.  payde  for  a  pound  of  suger  .  .  "  .  .  xiiij'' 

It.  payde  for  a  pygge  fur  my  M""      .  .  .  .  .  viij''." 

Therefore  a  pound  of  sugar  was  worth  nearly  two  pigs 
or  fourteen  chickens.  The  price  of  "  Ressyngs,  gynger, 
nytmvks,  Cloyys,  Maysse,"'  or  anything  in  tlie  spice 
line,  is  enormous  when  compared  with  wages  at  a 
penny  a  day  for  "  bearynge  of  wayter  unto  ye 
sestorne,"  or  skilled  workmen  at  sixpence  "  ye  wyke," 
for  whicli  there  are  many  entries.  About  the  same 
time    a    cow    cost    sixteen    shillings,    "  a    veylle "    three 

H  2 


*./ 


I20       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

and     foiirpeiice,     but     "  oxe    beyffe "     was    dearer    and 
wethers  were  about  three  shiUings  "a  pesse." 

These  Derbvsliire  knights  and  squires  amused  them- 
selves with  the  time-honoured  gentlemanly  sports  of 
cocking,  hawking,  "  ye  dysse,"  "  pyping  and  dauncynge," 
mostly  done  by  others — also  the  fighting ;  for  although 
they  bought  "  gunpowther,  quirashiers,  bandilieres,"  &c., 
the  owners  of  Haddon  appear  to  have  discreetly  kept 
out  of  war  and  preserved  their  home  for  us  to  see. 
In  1639 — that  is,  just  l)efore  the  (Jivil  War — they  bought 
some  pewter.      I  wonder  wlietlier  it  is  in  existence  now. 

"  Pd.  for  60  tie  dishes  of  large  puter  and  1 2  plates 

waighing  200,  15  li  att  I4d.  pei-  li,  m'kd.,  .Jni. 

F.,  etc 

Pd.  for  hallaiid  for  my  M^  his  britches 
Pd.  for  a  salt  catt  for  the  piggions  .... 
Pd.  for  a  lycence  vnder  the  greate  seale  to  eate  flesh 
Pd.    for    Babbies   and  a   primer  and  dyall   for   the 

gentlewomen   ....... 

Pd.  for  catching   18  doz.  of  Crefishes  \\h  h;uit'  gone 

to  Bel  voire      ....... 

Pd.  for  Isaac  Bradshaw  for  heliiing  to  pike  and  [lun 

crabs  wh  made  3  liogsheads  of  verjuice 

With  reference  to  the  last  two  items,  it  may  be 
as  well  to  explain  that  "  crefishes"  and  "crabs"  are  not 
quite  the  same,  as  the  former  v/ord  means  crawfish  and 
the  latter  apples  ;  Derbyshire  apples  making  vinegar, 
not  cider.  As  times  improved,  the  wages  of  harvesters 
went  up  to  twopence  a  day  and  worn-out  horses  to 
eiohteen  pence  apiece.  I  cannot  find  honey  mentioned  in 
the  accounts,  although  some  people  try  to  keep  l)ees  in 
Derljyshire  at  the  present  time.  Milk  is  also  produced 
in  the  county,  much  to  the  trouble  of  our  analysts, 
though  that  may  not  be  the  fault  of  the  poor  cow. 

As  the  fame  of  Dorothy  increases,  and  it  seems 
likely  she  will  soon  be  said  to  be  another  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  who  ever  lived,  we  went  to  Bakewell 
to  see  her  etfioy  on  her  tomb.      Great  care  was  taken 


£oiS  , 

■  03  ' 

.  6 

000  . 

■  03  • 

.  6 

000  , 

.  01  , 

.  8 

005  . 

,11. 

,  8 

000 

01 

■  4 

000 

.  04  , 

,  6 

000 

•  o.s 

.  0 

&.-' 


DOKOTHY    VERXON  S    MONUMENT 


SIR   GEORGE   JIAXXERS'S  TOMB 


MOPvS    ITEK   VIT.E  123 

to  make  effigies  like  the  deceased,  and  from  hers  she 
appears  to  have  been  a  fairly  nice-looking  woman  ;  Ijut 
the  night  must  have  been  very  dark  when  she  made 
her  famous  elopement,  for  Sir  John  Manners  looks  like 
a  vulofar  woodcutter  with  a  forehead  retreated  to  the 
uttermost.  It  is  said  that  his  skeleton  showed  that 
he  had  a  very  long,  high  nose,  and  she  had  plenty  of 
hair  with  six  brass  hairpins,  at  the  premature  resur- 
recti<iii  ill  1S41  when  the  church  was  being  "restored,' 
One  of  these  hairpins  was  advertised  publicly,  and  this 
seems  a  case  when  a  lawyer  might  have  been  useful. 

The  photographs  of  the  effigies  of  Sir  John  and 
Lady  Dorothy  with  the  quaint  little  children  below, 
and  of  the  gorgeous  tomb  of  one  of  these  children  who 
grew  up  into  being  Sir  George,  with  his  wife  and 
family,  may  give  the  reader  some  dim  idea  of  what 
these  great  folks  looked  like  ;  and  amid  all  the  heraldic 
pomp  of  quartered  arms  in  gorgeous  blazonry  with  pious 
mottoes  and  lono-  tales  in  Latin,  it  is  written  :  "The 
day  of  man's  death  is  better  than  his  birth." 


A    FEW    WORDS    IN    THE   FAMILY 


SOMERSET 


THE  vear  1903  V)eing'  one  of  tlie  wettest  ever 
known  in  England,  our  pilgrimages  had  been 
ratiier  damped,  especially  in  the  three  days' 
record  of  rain  that  we  had  had  in  June 
when  at  Wells.  There  were  a  few  tine  days  in  Sep- 
tember and  I  wished  to  go  into  Somerset  again,  but 
X  would  not  :  so  I  set  off  alone,  feehng  like  the  idle 
apprentice  or  the  prodigal  son,  while  he  stayed  at 
home  to  mind  his  work  and  feed  the  fatted  calf  ere  I 
returned  again. 

It  was  my  intention  to  wander  about  the  country, 
mixing  with  the  humbler  folk  and  talking  to  the 
aborigines,  if  any  were  left.  Beginning  at  Bath,  I 
asked  all  the  railway  porters  the  w^ay  to  Bradford-on- 
Avon  by  the  road.  There  were  about  a  dozen  })orters, 
not  one  of  whom  could  tell  me  the  road  to  a  town  six 
miles  distant.  Railway  servants  are  so  often  shifted 
to  various  stations  that  they  seldom  know  anything 
of  the  country  surrounding  them,  and  their  pronuncia- 
tion of  local  names  is  painfully  modern.  These  men 
seemed  to  be  mostly  Welsh ;  but  I  found  a  cabman 
who  was  English,  and  went  on  my  way.  Presently 
some  heavy  traffic  caused  me  to  dismount,  and  I  asked 
for  more  directions  from  a  policeman.  "  Kape  to  th' 
thram  loines,"  was  the  answer.  I  said,  "  Which  ? — they 
fork."  He  replied,  "  Shure  I  tould  ye,  Kape  to  th' 
thram  loines.  Cannot  ye  take  th'  roight  ones,  and  what 
wud  ye  be  takin'  th'  wrong  ones  for  '.  "  I  thought  of 
tellins;  him  he  was  an  Irishman,  but  that   would  have 


BRADFORD-ON-AYOX 


12 


insulted  him,  and  I  migiit  be  locked  up  all  night  to 
hear  something  like  this  in  the  morning :  "  Plaze 
yer  anners,  I  tuk  up  th'  prisner,  who  was  most  inshultin' 
to  me  in  th'  execootion  o'  nw  dooty.  I  tould  him  e'd 
be  reparthed.  I  sarched  his  phockets,  an'  shure  e's  niver 
th'  bit  in  them."  Experience  telling  me  what  to 
expect,  I  silently  hastened  awav,  turned  to  the  right 
at  Bathfbrd,  went  up  a  long  hill,  and  saw  Bath  across 
the    valley.      It    seemed   as    if   I   had   gone   round   half 


THE    MAXOR-HOUSE 


a  circle,  and  still  mounting  higher  there  was  a  splendid 
view  all  around  me — miles  of  country  lit  up  with  the 
0-low  of  the  settinof  sun,  extendine;  even  to  Salisburv 
Plain. 

It  was  quite  dark  ere  I  found  Bradford-on-Avon, 
and  the  descent  into  the  town  is  very  steep  and 
dangerous.  At  the  Swan  were  comfortable  quarters, 
with  chairs  worn  smooth  by  a  hundred  years  of  use. 
Early  to  bed  and  early  to  rise,  there  was  plenty  to 
see.  and  no  time  to  be  lost.  The  famous  manor-house 
which   has  been   copied    for    exhibition   in    France    and 


126       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   JIUMES 

America  is  too  well  known  for  me  to  attempt  any 
description  of  it.  I  went  there  before  breakfast  ;  saw 
the  milkman  takino-  in  the  milk  ;  went  with  him ; 
strolled  about  the  garden  before  any  one  was  up  ;  noted 
the  flock  of  red  pigeons  on  the  lawn  ;  was  not  enamoured 


THE    SAXON    CHAPEL 


with  the  stately  many-windowed  Jacobean  masterpiece, 
and  quietly  came  away. 

Then  there  was  the  famous  chapel  to  see,  the  oldest 
church  in  England.  Its  date  is  variously  said  to  be 
from  A.D.  Soo  to  a.d.  iooo.  A^ery  little  knowledge 
of  architecture  tells  one  it  is  genuine.  The  stone  of 
the  district  is  verv  durable,  and  the  Imilding  for  some 


128       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD   HOMES 

centuries  was  enclosed  in  other  buildings.  It  was  re- 
discovered in  1856,  the  nave  being  a  charity  school 
and  the  chancel  a  cottage,  with  a  shed  on  the  south 
side  where  the  porch  should  be. 

Asking  my  way  to  Westwood,  I  wandered  otl*  to 
find  a  most  beautiful  fifteenth- century  house  with 
mullioned  windows,  turret  for  stairs,  projecting  porch, 
all  of  white  stone  that  fairly  glistened  in  the  sun, 
behind  the  blood -red  leaves  of  the  creepers  that  clam- 
bered over  it.  A  notice  told  me  to  beware  of  dogs,  and 
judging  by  the  tone  of  voice  of  the  dogs  and  women, 
thev  must  be  often  troubled  with  unwelcome  callers. 
This  beautiful  manor-house  is  now  a  farm,  and  in  farm- 
houses the  work  is  incessant :  so  I  went  to  talk  to  an 
old  hedsrer  and  ditcher  in  the  lane.  He  was  one  of 
those  intelligent  old  husbandmen  who  know  the  seed, 
breed,  and  generation  of  all  the  country-side — the  gentry, 
the  farmers,  and  the  poor  folk  ;  can  give  you  the  folk- 
lore, weather -lore,  and  crop-lore.  I  learnt  that  it  would 
be  fine  for  the  day  ;  that  it  seldom  snows  there  ;  that 
the  crop  of  apples  was  the  worst  ever  known,  and  the 
storm  of  ten  days  previous  was  the  worst  on  record. 
He  gave  me  minute  instructions  about  my  way,  which 
I  made  notes  of;  but  being  uncertain  as  to  his  pro- 
imnciation,  I  asked  him  how  to  spell  "  Fowley "  or 
''Farleigh."  Tlien  he  said  he  had  "no  larnin'"  ;  he 
"  couldn't  spell."  Suddenly  I  remembered  the  words 
of  my  aunt  from  her  ninety  years  of  wisdom  :  "  If  you 
want  a  good  servant,  get  one  who  cannot  read  or  write." 
Here  was  a  man  who  had  "no  larnin',''  "couldn't  spell," 
but  who  knew  more  of  the  country-side  and  the  folk 
around  him  than  all  the  Welsh  porters,  or  Irish  police, 
or  bhnd  guides  in  Bath.  I  shook  hands  witli  him,  gave 
him  an  extra  tip,  and  joyfully  went  on  my  w^ay. 

From  Westwood  the  road  was  bad  and  so  danger- 
ously steej)  down  to  a  river  and  up  again  that  I  had  to 
partly  carry  the  bicycle.     On  the  fui-ther  1);iiik  were  some 


130       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

ruins,  probably  Farleigh  Castle,  where  some  genuine  letters 
of  Oliver  Cromwell's  were  found  in  an  old  chest  in  the 
chapel.  As  time  was  precious,  I  trudged  on  to  Norton 
St.  Pliilip,  where  is  an  old  inn,  "  a  perfect  treasure." 
The  cider  was  as  good  as  the  house  ;  just  the  sort  I  like — 
sweet,  strong,  and  dark  coloured,  made  from  bitter-sweet 
apples.  It  is  served  in  two-handled  mugs  :  a  pint  of 
nectar  in  both  hands  for  twopence.  The  industrious 
apprentice  is  not  having  all  the  fun  ;  but,  if  all  be  well, 
he  can  come  next  year  and  photograph  the  place. 

The  George  Inn  is  a  most  peculiar  structure.  It  was 
probably  built  as  an  inn,  with  one  large  room,  or  "ex- 
change," as  a  fair  or  mart  for  their  goods,  by  the  monks 
of  Hinton.  In  1638  it  was  let  for  fifty-three  shillings 
and  fourpence  a  year,  and  was  worth  five  pounds  with 
"  the  faire  loft  for  lynnen  cloth."  This  loft  has  a  billowy 
floor  of  plaster  or  cement,  with  birds  and  bats  in  the 
rafters  above.  It  projects  over  the  rooms  below  it,  and 
those  also  project  over  the  main  wall.  The  stairs  are 
of  much-worn  hard  stone  in  the  round  turret  in  the 
yard,  and  there  are  signs  of  galleries  having  once  been 
round  this  yard.  In  the  ceilings  in  the  lower  rooms  the 
immense  oaken  beams  are  within  a  few  inches  of  one 
another,  the  original  primitive  oaken  doors  with  their 
fasteninofs  are  there,  and  the  deserted  room  with  the 
table  at  which  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  was  sitting  when 
he  was  shot  at  from  the  lane  by  the  Fleur  de  Luce  Inn 
across  the  road.  The  Georg-e  is  an  orimnal  inn  or  hostel. 
Its  name  has  doubtless  been  changed,  but  it  was  built 
for  its  present  use.  Though  its  prosi)erity  has  departed, 
other  glories  grow  around  it.  Apparently  it  has  never 
been  restored  or  "done  up"  for  five  hundred  years.  I 
began  to  wonder  if  tlie  cider  was  tlie  same  age  ;  but 
as  mine  host  told  me  he  had  made  it  himself  from  his 
own  apples,   that  could  not  be. 

After    Norton    St.    Philip,    or    IMiihp    Norton  —  for 
either  name  seems  to  be  used,  even  by  those  who  have 


THE   GEORGE   INN 


fT?        .^,-- 


--f--^'^- 


»   ^-  -*i     X' 


^.^.SSv^-i^ 


PASSAGE  thuou(;h  thk  inn  and  couktyard 


I    2 


134       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

not  bad  cider — my  Avaiiderings  are  rather  hazv.  I  went 
through  Woolverton,  where  once  were  wolves,  and 
Beckington,  but  wishing  to  find  Athehiey,  I  availed 
me  of  one  of  the  few  trains  that  crawl  around  the 
country,  and  travelling  from  Frome  l)y  Yeovil  to 
Langport,  I  liad  change  of  scene,  of  society,  and  rest 
1)V   the  way. 

A    peculiar,    steep    green     hill,    with    liat    top    and 
terraced  sides,  I  am  told  is  Cadburv.      "Is  that  where 


THE    DUKE    fiF    MONMOUTH'S    ROOM 


the  cocoa  comes  from  ? "  No.  Cadbury  was  deserted 
about  the  time  of  Julius  C?esar.  King  Arthur's  silver 
horse-shoe  was  found  tliere  and  stolen  not  lon^  since. 
It's  good  for  nothing  now  ;  would  not  feed  a  bullock 
to  the  acre  ;  might  keep  a  few  sheep.  My  companions 
in  the  train  are  redolent  of  tlie  beasts  on  which  thev 
live.  Big -limbed,  big -featured  Anglo-Saxon  horse- 
copers  wrangle  and  jangle  with  peppery,  l)lack  A\  elsh 
cattle-lifters.      Thev  are    still   in   the   same    business   as 


HOESE-COPEPvS   AXI)   PIG-JOBBERS     135 

their  forefathers  have  been  from  prehistoric  times,  but 
the  plunder  has  to  be  gotten  more  legally  than  it  had 
in  tlie  days  when  patriotism  might  mean  plunder,  and 
now  the  lawyers  share  it,  or  swallow  it.  When  I  was  a 
child,  an  uncle  had  a  pot  cow  with  one  man  pulling 
at  the  horns,  another  at  the  tail,  while  a  third  milked 
it.  I  was  told  that  work  of  ;irt  represented  a  lawsuit, 
with  the  lawyer  cvettino-  all  the  cream,  and  the  milk 
also,  and  that  in  the  good  old  times  when  lawyers 
Avere  scarce  the  two  men  would  have  killed  the  lawyer 
first  and  then  settled  about  the  milk.  It  was  refreshino- 
to  hear  these  fakers  and  slinkers  beino-  indio-nant  at 
villainy  far  deeper  and  more  subtle  than  their  own 
though  done  under  due  process  of  law. 

I  left  the  train  at  Langport  ;  went  through  the 
little  town,  under  the  Hanging  Chapel,  a  curious  ruin 
above  the  road  and  over  the  old  town  gate ;  tarried 
a  short  time  in  the  churchyard,  where  there  is  a  far- 
stretching  view,  and  went  on  to  Huish  Episcopi.  Here 
there  is  a  most  beautiful  church-tower,  loftv,  and 
elaborately  decorated  :  also  a  very  fine  Norman  door- 
way. This  grand  church  is  less  than  a  mile  from 
that  at  Langport,  and  about  a  mile  from  another  grand 
one  at  Muchelney.  The  towers  of  Somerset,  with  their 
^•listening  or  lichenecl  stone  and  carved  ornaments,  are 
the  most  beautiful  I  have  ever  seen.  The  wonder  is. 
who  could  conceive  them,  or  who  in  this  wild  land 
of  fen  or  swamp  could  build  them. 

At  Muchelney  the  abbey  has  been  made  into  a 
farm.  There  seem  to  be  various  ruins,  and  old  houses 
are  wonderfully  picturesque ;  but  apples  are  lying  in 
the  churchyard  o-rass,  and  I  sit  on  an  altar-tomb  to 
play  the  part  of  the  prodigal  son,  eating  what  the 
swine  had  missed  and  wondering  whether  we  can  come 
again  to  photograph.  I  cycle  on  my  lonely  way  down 
the  marshes  of  the  Parret,  knowing  that  at  last  I  am 
in  Athelney,  the  isle  of  the  nobles,  the  land  of  Alfred, 


136 


PIL(ilMMAGES    TO    ()\A)    JIO.MES 


or  ^■Elf'red  as  men  now  spell  the  name.  There  is  Httle 
to  see  but  miles  and  miles  of  flat  land  intersected  with 
watercourses  and  a  river  behind  hi^h  l)anks.  The 
soil  looks  alluvial  and  rich.  There  are  plenty  of  cattle 
and  piijs,  Bv  a  small  farm  a  bhick  sow  is  baskinof 
and  PTuntim^'-  contentedlv  while  her  owner  speaks 
words    of   comfort    and    hope    to    her.      "Bean't     er    a 


"^ 


"TT^ 


^^^       I  hi^^         >      if  i 


JIUCHELXEY    ABBEY 


beauty  ? "  he  said  to  me.  I  thought  her  beastly  ugly, 
for  her  big  ears  flapped  over  her  f\\ce  ;  but  she  was 
happy  in  the  expectation  of  a  family,  and  had  })rovision 
for  a  dozen  ;  if  there  were  more,  they  would  be  ricklings, 
destined  to  clem.  He,  the  lord  and  master,  was  happy 
in  gloating  over  the  wealth  they  would  bring  him  and 
the  bacon  she  could  be  salted  into  after  they  were 
reared. 

Wondering   to  myself  whether  these  men   and  pigs 


ALFRED'S   JEWEL  137 

were  descendants  of  King  Alfred's  serfs  and  swine, 
and  wiietber  there  were  any  cakes  in  the  cottajTes,  tlie 
thought  of  that  curious  relic  known  as  Alfred's  jewel 
came  to  me,  and  the  time-worn  proverb  that  truth  is 
stranger  than  fiction. 

Within  a  few  miles  of  where  I  was  roaming  and 
dreaming,  at  North  Newton  or  Petherton  Park,  there 
w^as  dug  up,  in  1693,  an  antique  jewel  or  work  of  art 
which  is  now  in  the  Ashmolean  Museum  at  Oxford.  It 
is  described  as  a  gold  plate,  enamelled  with  a  figure,  and 
protected  by  rock-crystal,  enshrined  in  a  golden  frame, 
round  which  is  the  legend — 

AELFRET)    MEC    HEHT   OEWYRCAN 

— meanincr,  "  Alfred  me  had  worked,"  or  "  Alfred  ordered 
me  to  be  made." 

There  is  little  or  no  doubt  that  it  was  made  by  order 
of  King  Alfred,  and  probably  worn  in  his  crown  or 
helmet.  Though  history  never  mentions  it,  the  jewel 
bears  its  own  authenticity.  Two  of  the  letters — C  and  G 
— are  angular,  the  Anglo-Saxon  form  ;  the  otliers  are 
lioman,  which  Alfred  caused  to  be  more  often  used.  The 
commentators  on  it  make  many  guesses.  To  me  it 
would  appear  most  likely  the  jewel  would  be  treasured 
in  the  Abbey  of  Athelney  until  the  dissolution,  when 
it  would  disappear,  only  to  turn  up  again  near  to  its 
original  home  in  little  more  than  a  century. 

As  I  steadily  rolled  down  this  land  of  swamps,  a 
conical  hill  with  a  ruined  church  on  the  top  became 
nearer  to  me — a  steep,  isolated  hill  near  to  the  junction 
of  the  Tone  and  the  Parret.  It  was  Alfred's  fort,  his  last 
stronghold  in  his  own  land  ;  and  of  coiu^se  I  climbed  it, 
leaving  the  bicycle  at  an  inn.  Hither  should  come  any 
pilgrim  student  of  English  history  to  see  where  England 
began.  Without  seeing  it  one  cannot  realise  Avhat  an 
almost  impregnable  stronghold  this  steep  little  hill  in  a 


i:;S       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD   HOMES 


3 


world  of  morass  must  have  been  In  those  primitive  times. 
For  manv  miles  in  all  directions  it  is  even  now  one  vast 
swamp,  of  which  the  land  will  be  some  feet  higher  than 
it  was  in  Alfred's  time.  Ships  could  not  float  nor  could 
foemen  walk  across  the  miry  bog  :  only  natives  knowing- 
slippery  paths  could  live.  It  was  Eastertide  87S  when 
the  fugitive  chieftain  liere  built  liis  fort.  From  it  there 
is  to-day  an  almost  l)oundless  vision.  Churches  rise 
above  the  fen  in  all  directions.  Glastonbury  Tor,  Avith 
all  its  memories,  is  there  before  us,  and  utter  silence  and 
solitude.  The  wind  blows  keenly,  but  there  is  no  other 
sound  ;  for  the  silence  of  autumn  has  fallen  on  bird  and 
beast.  Alone  I  meditate,  till  cold  and  hung-er  drive  me 
down,  wondering  at  the  lonescmeness  over  all  the  great 
plain  around  me. 

Waning  light  gave  little  time  for  rest  ere  I  travelled 
on  towards  Taunton.  There  were  two  miles  of  straight 
road  across  the  fen,  then  about  six  more  through  Durston. 
Unfortunatelv  it  was  a  Friday  night,  and  immense 
droves  of  cattle  were  being  driven  to  Taunton  for  the 
morrow's  stock-market.  The  labour  of  having  constantly 
to  dismount  from  the  bicvcle  or  be  knocked  over  bv  pigs, 
sheep,  cows,  or  colts,  added  greatly  to  my  weariness, 
and  it  was  quite  dark  before  I  reached  the  town.  As  it 
seemed  a  busy,  noisy  place,  I  asked  for  the  best  hotel  ; 
and  just  as  a  bedroom  was  allotted  to  me,  the  liarsli, 
raucous  voice  of  a  German  Jew  made  me  shudder. 
Then  a  little  foreigner  told  me  there  was  table  dliote 
a  la  carte,  "  vot  zu  vont  ? "  Instinctively  I  felt  there 
would  Ije  notliing  I  should  l)e  likelv  to  want,  so  I  told 
him  to  bring  something,  and  left  it  to  chance.  At  the 
next  table  were  two  men,  feeding.  One  had  a  soft, 
blubbery  mouth,  and  the  other  had  a  mouth  like  a  rat- 
trap.  The  one  would  evidently  say  anything  and  be- 
lieve anything.  The  otlier  would,  like  his  professional 
brother,  say  anything,  but  believe  nothing.  A  })arson 
and  a  lawyer  !     Did  the  prodigal  son  have  such  luck  ? 


TAUNTON  139 

Til  my  bewilderment  I  asked  myself  if  I  had  left  home 
for  this,  or  why  I  had  not  taken  pot-luck,  like  King 
Alfred,  in  a  herdsman's  cottage  in  the  marshes  of 
Athelney  and  supped  off"  cake  and  milk. 

To  see  what  the  noisy  town  might  be  like,  I  strolled 
about  among  militia-men,  shop-lads,  shop-ladies,  news- 
boys ringing  bells  with  fearful  din  to  sell  their  printed 
gossip,  cattle-drovers  swearing  in  English.  Irish,  Welsh, 
and  Somerset,  at  their  wretched,  harried  cattle  and  at 
one  another,  while  through  all  the  motlev  crowd  charf- 
inp-  trams  came  with  horrible  clatter,  forcino;  all  to  flee. 
I  went  to  my  bedroom  and  sliut  the  M-indow,  ])ut  the 
Avires  of  the  trams  were  just  outside  it,  and  the  constant 
clanging  was  worse  than  that  of  many  trains.  All 
night  long  the  poor  cattle  bleated  and  l^ellowed  inces- 
santly, waiting  in  torture  for  their  death.  \\  hat  a 
relief  it  would  Ije  to  them  when  carnivorous  man  or 
beast  had  eaten  them  !  Durinof  a  wretched  nitdit  I 
endured  the  horrors  of  civilisation,  but  day  dawned 
again,  and  as  soon  as  breakfast  could  l)e  had,   I   fled. 

Westward  Ho,  or  anywhere  out  of  Taunton,  for 
the  droves  of  sheep  and  oxen  are  still  coming  in  as 
if  the  town  were  about  to  hold  an  autumnal  carnival, 
I  took  the  road  f »r  tlie  C)uantocks,  a-raduallv  risino- 
through  a  beautiful  country.  On  my  right  is  one  of 
those  fine  church-towers  for  which  Somerset  is  noted  ; 
but  time  is  too  precious  to  turn  aside  for  it,  as  a  lonely 
journey  over  a  wild  country  is  Ijefore  me,  where  an 
accident  might  be  serious,  and  I  must  not  throw  any 
chance  or  time  away.  Bishops  Lydeard  is  the  place, 
and  here  at  Conquest  farm,  in  1666,  an  urn  containing 
eighty  pounds  weight  of  Roman  coins  was  found.  At 
another  villacre  further  on,  with  the  curious  name  of 
Stogumber  (Stoke-Gomer),  a  similar  treasure  has  been 
found.  At  Crowcombe  I  found  a  treasure  in  a  model 
village,  where,  in  close  proximity,  are  church,  hall,  ruined 
school    or   almshouse  with    outer   stairs,  cross,   inn,  and 


I40       PILGKIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

backoToiiiid  of  stee})  hills  with  hio-  trees.  A  beautiful 
secluded  s})ot,  and  ancient  history  tells  me  it  was  once 
the  a'ift  of  Gvtha  for  the  soul  of  Godwin.  The  inn 
is  called  the  C^arew  Arms,  and  when  I  pronounce  that 
name  as  if  it  were  Carey,  I  J^m  told  that  liere  it  is 
pronounced  Cwrw,  and  they  brew  their  own.  "  J'espere 
bien"  is  the  motto  on  the  sign,  and  I  may  well  hope 
the  home-brewed  is  not  as  mixed  as  is  the  language 
of  the  sign. 

A  grand  pair  of  horses  comes  through  the  old- 
fashioned  gatew^ay  before  the  Queen  Anne  house  of 
Crowcombe  Court,  where  lives  the  Honourable  Mr. 
Trollope.  Up  steep  steps  I  climb  to  the  beautiful 
old  church.  Its  glistening  stones  look  blotched  with 
blood  wliere  autunm's  breath  has  dyed  the  creepers' 
leaves  a  deeper  purple.  Dark  and  rich  in  contrast  is 
the  everlasting  green  of  a  giant  yew  with  bole  of 
shining  chestnut,  and  the  steeply  slo})ing  liill  that  seems 
to  crowd  upon  the  church  is  richly  clothed  wdth  shelter- 
ing firs  and  oaks.  The  bench-ends  were  a  surprise  for 
me,  for  I  had  never  heard  of  them  and  know  none 
better.      One  is  dated  Mcccccxxxiiii. 

It  needs  a  small  sum  in  arithmetic  to  add  that  up 
to  1534,  and  there  are  many  elaborately  carved  ends 
to  pews  that  I  could  not  interpret.  There  are  men 
lighting  dragons,  fearful  beasts,  Gothic  arcliitecture, 
linen  pattern,  scroll-work,  &c.  Shelves  for  books  are 
two  inches  thick  in  solid  oak,  strong  enough  to  hold  a 
cartload  of  l)ricks.  The  door  is  three  inches  thick  ;  and 
many  other  things  there  are  to  see,  but  no  one  to  tell  me 
anything.  In  despair  I  resolve  to  beard  the  parson  in 
his  den.  He  is  not  in,  so  I  rest  a  while,  and  drowsiness 
o'ercomes  me  till  I  wonder  in  the  (piietude  what  century 
it  is  up  here.  Shall  I  sleep  the  sleep  that  knows  not 
waking,  or,  like  a  second  Hip  van  Winkle,  tind  the  world 
is  whirling  on  while  I  am  dreaming  in  the  Quantocks? 

Four  hundred  feet   of  fall  rolls  me  (piiekly  towards 


142       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

Watchet  and  the  sea.  All  the  way  across  Somerset  I 
have  seen  hundreds  of  trees  hlown  down  by  the  great 
storm  that  had  raged  about  ten  days  before,  and  every 
bit  of  foliage  that  was  exposed  to  the  south-west  wind 
was  burnt  as  it  were  with  fire.  The  soil  of  this  higher 
land  was  brownish  red  ;  and  the  red  earth  is  the  earth 
for  me.  Sheep  and  pigs  are  of  the  same  livery,  though 
the  pigs  are  blotched  with  black  and  dirty  }'ellow. 
Some  came  to  talk  to  me  as  I  sat  on  a  gate  enjoying 
the  air  and  scenery.  They  had  enormous  rings  in  their 
noses,  and  huge  fiapping  ears  that  hid  their  little 
twinkling  eyes.  I  share  my  last  apple  with  them  — that 
is,  I  give  them  the  peel — and  resume  my  pilgrim's  way. 

The  small  ruined  Abbey  of  Cleeve  is  the  next  place 
at  which  I  halt,  and  here  is  a  girl  tending  poultry  who 
greatly  interests  me  ;  for  she  is  fully  six  feet  high,  and 
thirteen  or  fourteen  stone  weight,  with  an  extraor- 
dinary name.  Cleeva  Plevena  Clap  poetically  embodies 
the  name  of  the  place,  the  battle  of  Plevna,  and  the 
family. 

When  X  hears  of  this  girl  and  abbey  I  know  he 
will  come  and  })hotograph,  therefore  I  spend  little  time 
before  I  journey  on  for  Dunster.  ¥;\r  on  the  right 
there  is  the  sea,  and  a  station  with  the  romantic  name 
of  Blue  Anchor.  Then  a  castled  crag  comes  right  in 
front,  and  further  round  among  the  wooded  hills  a 
lordly  castle.  Sharply  turning  to  the  left,  up  a  steep 
bank,  I  reach  the  charming  little  town  of  Dunster,  and 
an  inn  that  w^as  built  by  monks  in  bygone  ages  extends 
to  me  its  hospitality. 

The  lamps  from  the  Luttrell  Arms  threw  bright  rays 
of  light  into  the  darkness  as  I  sat  by  the  roadside  in 
the  ancient  porch  wondering  whether  the  scene  around 
me  was  real,  or  merely  painted  for  some  opera,  a 
pageant  that  would  })ass  away.  The  fresh  air  of  the 
hills  and  woods  assured  me,  and  with  my  fingers  I  felt 
the    eyelets,   or  slits  in   the   stone,    through   which    the 


144       PILCxRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

archers  of  old  shot  their  arrows  as  they  guarded  the 
portal.  It  was  substantial  enough  to  last  a  few  more 
centuries.  Close  to  the  inn-door  is  the  quaintest  radiat- 
ino-  market-sted  in  all  the  world.  It  has  stood  three 
hundred  years,  and  civil  war,  and  loss  of  all  its  trade. 


THE    KITCHEN    WINDOW    OF    THE    LUTTRELL    ARMS 


and  is  now  more  ])recious  than  ever.  Higli  aloft  and 
near  to,  is  a  ghostly  tower  on  a  wooded  hill  shutting 
in  one  end  of  the  little  town  whose  one  broad  street 
slopes  away  downhill,  only  to  rise  again  towards  another 
towered  castle,  the  feudal  stronghold  of  the  Luttrells. 
Over  it  is  the  new  moon,  shining,  with  its  attendant  star, 


K 


146       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

and  anvthino-  more  like  the  iairvlaiid  of  fairv-tales 
I  never  saw.  There  are  no  hghts  but  the  lamps 
of  heaven,  and  there  are  no  sounds  but  the  gentle 
sio-hinir  of  the  wind,  with  now  and  then  the  foot- 
fills  of  a  horse  ;  for  it  is  eight  o'clock,  and  the  natives 
seem  mostlv  ffone  to  bed.  I  stroll  around  to  see 
what  there  may  be  to  see.  One  shop  is  open ;  it 
is  a  butcher's,  where,  in  bits,  they  sell  the  local  cows 
Avhen  they  can  milk  no  more.  The  guardian  dog 
curled  up  in  the  doorway  is  fast  asleep.  There  are 
no  cats,  no  police,  no  lawyers,  no  motors,  no  trams. 
Oh,  what  an  ideal  place  1  All  down  one  side  of  the 
street  and  up  the  other  I  could  not  find  a  single 
brass  plate.  There  is  a  church,  so  probably  there  will 
be  a  parson  somewhere,  but  })erhaps  he  leaves  his 
flock  in  peace  for  six  days  in  the  seven.  Let  us  to 
bed  and  sleep  the  sleep  of  innocence. 

My  bedroom  was  over  the  projecting  porch  of  the 
hostelry  where  long  fronds  of  the  polypody  fern 
luxuriated  in  the  outer  walls,  and  very  soon  was  I 
in  Paradise.  But,  ere  long,  Whoo-oo-oo-oo !  loudly 
rang  around  the  little  room,  startling  me  from  sleep. 
Oh,  "  fatal  bellman  which  gives  the  steru'st  good- 
night! "  is  it  thou?  W/ioo-oo-uo-oo !  rang  out  again 
as  the  bird  of  ill  -  omen  fiew  from  by  my  open 
window^  to  its  "  ivy  -  mantled  '  home.  Whose  turn 
is  next,  thought  I,  for  "  blind  Furv  with  the  ab- 
horred  shears  to  slit  the  thin-spun  life "  ?  Is  it 
mine  ?  Drowsily  I  thought  it  best  to  chance  it,  and 
went  to  sleep  again,  but  not  for  long.  Strange 
sounds  steal  in  upon  my  slumbers,  and  half  awake 
and  half  asleep  I  wonder  what  it  is  I  hear  now. 
Dimly,  old  memories  revive,  something  about  angels 
and  pilgrims  singing.  Like  Justice  Shallow,  I 
heard  the  chimes  at  midnight.  A  hymn  oft 
suno;  in  boyhood  but  seldom  lieard  now  in  Dids- 
bury's    old    churcli.       "  O'er    earth's    green    fields    and 


SUNDAY   IN   SOMEKSET  147 

ocean's    wave  -  beat    shore "    the    bells    of    Dunster    are 
pealing — 

"  Augels  !   sing  on,  your  faithful  watches  keeping. 
Sing  us  sweet  fragments  of  the  songs  above  ; 
Till  morning's  joy  shall  end  the  night  of  weeping, 
And  life's  long  shadows  break  in  endless  love." 

The  following  morning,  being  Sunday,  I  went  to 
church  as  usual,  and  saw  one  of  the  largest  and  finest 
rood  screens  in  the  countrv.  It  is  said  this  church 
has  two  owners  ;  for  the  chancel  and  chapels  were  owned 
by  the  Priory  of  Dunster,  whose  property  was  confis- 
cated at  what  is  commonly  called  the  Reformation,  and 
subsequently  bought  by  the  ancestor  of  the  Luttrells 
for  /;Ss,  1 6s.  8d.  ^ 

Soon  after  service  I  started  for  Minehead  and 
Porlock.  The  former  appears  to  be  a  fashionable  resort 
for  holldavs  at  the  seaside  ;  the  latter  is  like  a  primitive 
fishing  village  and  much  more  pleasing  to  me,  but  the 
road  down  to  it  is  one  of  the  most  dangerous  corkscrews 
on  anv  main-road,  and  vet  sundrv  vouno-  men  were 
flying  down  it  at  a  pace  of  fullv  twentv  miles  an  hour. 
It  looked  as  if  they  would  all  have  been  dashed  to 
pieces  if  it  had  been  done  on  any  other  day  than 
Sunday. 

On  my  return  I  sought  a  model  village  named 
Selworthy,  up  in  the  hills,  where  are  almshouses  deeply 
thatched  standing  round  a  village  green — model  cottages, 
model  iini.  model  evervthing-  that  wealth  and  Ijeautv 
of  place  can  give.  The  way  to  it  is  up  romantic 
Devonshire  lanes  where  the  trees  meet  overhead  and 
the  fern-fronds  deck  the  banks.  I  trudged  up  con- 
tentedly, anticipating  my  tea  with  relish,  but  had 
reckoned  without  mv  host.  No  one  would  let  me 
have  any  tea,  or  anything  else.  Why  ?  Because  it 
was  Sunday.  It  would  be  dreadfully  wicked  to  have 
tea  on    Sunday.     I  ought  to  have  known   that  ;   for  in 


148       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

parts  of  Cheshire  cottagers  are  forbidden  to  give  even 
a  cup  of  cold  water  to  thirsty  travellers  on  the  Lord's 
day.  It  is  said  a  tenant  farmer  had  to  quit  his  farm 
for  taking  a  friend  to  service  in  a  church  in  "  private  " 
PTOunds  and  allowino-  the  friend  to  desecrate  the 
Sabbath  by  snapshotting  the  church. 

Hungry  and  tliirsty  I  had  to  travel  on,  thankful 
that  all  my  life  I  had  been  taught  to  do  either  with 
or  without.  Over  wild  moorland  hills,  a  farmer  sent 
me  on  a  shorter  way  which  proved  a  very  doubtful 
one,  and  glad  was  I  to  reach  a  better  road  before  the 
light  was  gone  and  where  all  the  people  were  not 
quite  so  good. 

Early  next  morning  men  come  to  breakfast  in 
hunting  toggery,  booted  and  spurred,  ready  for  the 
chase  of  the  red-deer,  and  all  is  bustle  and  excite- 
ment. They  tell  me  there  are  twelve  miles  of 
roadwork  with  a  rise  of  a  thousand  feet  in  three 
miles,  nearly  as  much  to  descend,  and  then  another 
rise.  I  should  then  have  to  leave  my  bicycle  and 
go  on  foot  if  I  wanted  to  see  any  hunting.  Of 
course  I  went  ;  there  could  be  no  hesitation  about 
that.  At  fox-hunting  I  had  had  many  a  good  gallop, 
but  never  seen  a  wild  stag  in  chase  or  at  bay. 
The  road  is  good  and  well  graded,  slowly  rising  along 
a  well- wooded  ravine  with  rushing  stream  below  and 
gorse-clad  hills  above.  The  noted  Somerset  beacon, 
Dunkery,  is  on  my  right,  and  further  on  the  ascent 
grows  steeper,  but  the  road  is  always  good  and 
engineered  well.  At  Wheddon  Cross  on  the  top  of  the 
watershed  is  an  inn,  the  "  Rest  and  be  thankful."  I  am 
thankful,  but  have  no  time  to  rest.  The  scenery  is 
wilder  and  tlie  crowd  thicker,  for  all  up  this  long 
tramp  horses  and  horsemen  have  been  constantly  over- 
taking me.  Even  on  the  previous  evening  I  had  noticed 
many  smart  grooms  with  good  hunters  ;  to-day  there 
were  scores  of  them,  and  many  rode  as  if  they  had  luid 


THE   MEET 


149 


military  training.  Then  come  the  carriages — dogcarts, 
donkey- carts,  pony-carts,  all  sorts  and  sizes  of  vehicles, 
from  the  stately  landau  and  pair  with  men-servants  to 
the  more  lordlv  coach  and  four.  After  a  lonir  roll 
downliill  to  Exton  we  turn  sharp  to  the  right,  up  tlie 


A   DEVONSHIRE   LANE 


valley  of  the  Exe  for  Exmoor,  and  towards  Exford 
instead  of  going  on  by  Exebridge  for  Exeter,  and  I 
regret  that  X  is  not  with  me. 

Winsford  is  a  village  in  the  hills,  apparently  created 
for  artists  and  preserved  for  sportsmen.  In  the  centre 
of  it  two  rushing,  rambling  little  rivers  join,  but  there 
are  no  bridges  f  )r  horses,  and  the  place  is  blocked  witli 

K   2 


ISO       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

tliem.  Grand  carriages  splasli  and  jolt  tlir(»uyh  the 
rockv  stream  while  the  ladies  cling  to  the  sides  and 
scream.  I  left  my  bike  in  the  stick-ruck  of  a  cottage 
and  went  towards  the  Royal  Oak  Inn,  but  it  was 
thronged  with  sucli  a  surging  crowd  of  folk,  dogs, 
and  horses  that  I  went  of^'  u})  the  hill,  hoping  there 
would  be  something  left.  For  three  miles  I  tramped 
up  a  narrow  lane  where  tlie  ferns  often  hung  like 
tapestr\%  and  into  them  I  had  to  squeeze  as  horse- 
men passed.  Horsewomen  treated  pedestrians  as  dirt ; 
but  that  is  no  new  thinsf.  Glittering:  horse-shoes  were 
flashing  in  all  directions,  and  the  crowd  became  thicker 
as  we  neared  the  meet. 

Cromer's  Cross  is  at  the  end  of  some  lanes  that  lose 
themselves  in  the  open  moor.  Here  are  tlie  hounds,  and 
a  horseman  being  lielped  on  to  a  side-saddle  is  Lord 
Ebrington,  the  master,  who  has  not  recovered  from 
an  accident.  He  looked  odd,  but  I  was  told  there 
were  ladies  riding  as  cavaliers  who  looked  odder  to 
those  Avho  could  tell  which  was  which.  Rumour  had 
it  that  an  enterprising  Yankee  was  tliere  whose  steam- 
tug  was  waiting  for  him  in  Porlock  Bay  wliile  he 
o-alloi)ed  all  over  Exmoor  in  a  day.  ''  Ware  boo-  niv 
lords  !  "  a  groom  shouts  to  two  boys  wlio  splash  through 
a  puddle  near  to  me.  All  sorts  and  conditions  of  men 
are  here.  At  last  I  see  an  aborigine — shepherd,  poacher, 
gamekeeper,  or  one  of  the  hangers-on  who  follow  most 
packs  of  hounds  ;  his  rags  looked  picturesque.  In  his 
greasy  cap  was  a  lock  of  the  long  coarse  hair  from  the 
red-deer's  mane  or  brisket,  and  hi.s  l^oots  looked  like 
fimilv  heirlooms.  He  was  gazing  intently  at  tlie  top- 
boots  and  l)uckskins  of  two  gentlemen's  gentlemen 
whose  livery  alone  would  have  cost  more  than  the 
poor  man  could  have  earned  ni  a  year.  I  tried  to  talk 
with  him  about  the  deer  and  their  wavs,  but  it  was 
very  difficult  to  understand  anything  he  sa.id.  Gradu- 
ally  I  learnt   there    were   more   deer   than    the    farmers 


STAG-HUNTING  151 

liked,  and  they  had  lately  driven  five  into  a  funnel, 
lassoed,  and  killed  them.  For  some  time  he  would 
not  say  what  liad  Ijecome  of  them,  \mt  when  it  slowly 
dawned  on  him  tliere  was  no  harm  in  my  foolish 
questions,  in  astonislnnent  that  any  simpleton  could 
doubt,  he  blurted  out,  "  Some  one's  hetten  em,  o'  coorse." 
The  words  are  probably  not  correctly  stated,  for  I  was 
too  amused  with  mv  own  io-norance  to  write  them 
down  at  the  time.  Of  course  some  one  ate  tlie  deer. 
All  of  us  and  everything  get  eaten  in  turn.  Venison, 
called  by  them  of  old  time — Venzon — Savoury  meat, 
such  as  thy  soul  loveth.  It  would  make  the  mouth 
of  an  angel  to  water,  and  for  seven  hours  that  day, 
seven  hours  of  hard  work,  I  tasted  nothing  but  two 
apples  and  a  big  mushroom  that  I  picked  up  on  the 
moor. 

The  next  native  fiom  wliom  1  seek  information  is  a 
big  farmer  who  sits  on  a  good  cob  for  an  hour  like  a 
statue,  while  all  around  tlie  liounds  are  trying  for  a  stag 
which  that  mornino;  was  harboured  in  the  wood  below 
us,  or  for  a  smaller  one  that  was  at  the  Punch-bowl. 
They  lie  close  and  are  never  found.  On  the  skyline 
of  all  the  hills  around  for  miles  are  horsemen,  and 
jolting  over  the  ruts  and  through  the  heather  and 
rushes  of  the  moor  are  carriao-es  of  all  sorts  and 
sizes.  The  wind  increases  in  force  and  chilliness  as 
the  day  wears  on.  As  I  toiled  up  the  hills  in  the 
morning,  I  had  literally  "larded  the  lean  earth,"  and 
now  an  icy  blast  blows  through  me  as  I  cower  under 
a  gorse-bush  and  still  wait  for  s])ort.  But  none 
comes,  and  thin  rain  is  driven  before  a  storm  from 
the  Atlantic. 

I  seek  the  shelter  of  the  Royal  Oak  at  Winsford, 
as  did  a  hard-pressed  hind  some  seasons  since.  Why 
she  went  into  an  inn  is  a  mystery  ;  but  hunted  deer  do 
queer  things.  Perhaps  she  panted  like  the  well-known 
hart   when   heated   by   the   chase,    but    not   for   cooling 


0- 


PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD    HOMES 


water  oiilv.  They  took  her  in,  in  very  deed — for  they 
cut   her  tliroat,  and  ate  her, 

"  The  long  easy  gallo}»  tliat  can  tire 
The  hound's  deep  hate  and  the  liunter's  fire" 

might  have  saved  her  if  she  had  not  been  ruined  by 
the  temptations  of  the  pubHc-house. 

At  the  cottap-e  where  I  left  mv  bike  in  the 
thatched  stick-ruck  I  asked  the  nice  old  woman,  who 
had  cheeks  like  red-russety  apples,  what  I  owed  her. 
She,  too,  stared  at  me  as  if  I  were  daft  or  talked 
nonsense ;  but  when  I  gave  her  threejjence,  she 
dropped  an  old-fashioned  curtsey  nearly  to  the  ground, 
and,  beaming  with  joy,  showed  the  small  fortune  to 
her  daughter. 

In  heavy  rain  I  started  again  for  a  long  roll  down 
the  valley  of  the  Exe,  turning  to  the  right  when  I 
regained  the  main  road  to  Exeter.  More  thaii  twenty 
miles  of  free-wheelinp;  was  before  me  if  I  had  o-one 
on,  but  the  road  became  slippery,  the  hills  w^ere  hidden 
by  mist,  and  the  rain  became  a  deluge.  After  endur- 
inp;  this  for  some  miles  I  saw  a  shed  below  an  over- 
hano-iiip-  rock  and  took  shelter  therein.  No  woodman 
or  roadman  came  to  claim  it,  and  I  saw  no  one  but 
now  and  then  galloping  horsemen  for  the  hour  I 
staid  there.  It  was  a  charming  place  for  a  short 
rest.  Ferns  grew  through  the  nicks  in  the  wooden 
walls  and  roof.  Lofty  hills  witli  fine  vegetation  were 
all  around,  and  the  brawling  little  river  was  rapidly 
Ijecoming  a  torrent. 

What  a  wonderful  thinjj-  has  this  chase  of  the  red- 
deer  become  !  Far  and  wide  over  many  miles  of  country 
every  noble,  squire,  farmer,  or  sojourner  at  seaside 
have  tlieir  thoughts  on  the  S})ort.  Every  child  who 
marks  a  slot  in  the  lane  runs  to  tell.  Every  lonely 
angler  in  the  mountain  streams  is  an  enemy  in  ambush 
against  the  wily  stag  who   seeks  the  water  for  safety. 


STOEM   ON   EXMOOR 


^5. 


Every  hoer  of  turnips,  road-mender,  or  solitary  shepherd 
on  the  hills — in  fact,  the  hand  of  every  man,  woman,  or 
child  over  twenty  miles  of  country  is  against  the  poor 
hunted  deer.  Even  at  sea,  from  Watchet  to  fashionable 
Minehead,  from  Porlock  to  Lynton,  where  the  cliffs  drop 
sheer  down  to  the  water,  the  rugged  fishermen  keep  an 
eye  to  the  land,  for  well  they  know  a  stag  hard  ])ressed 
by  hounds  will  bound  down  those  steep  crags  and  swim 
straight  out  to  sea.      Possibly  some  hounds  may  struggle 


after,  and  these  are  tish  for  lucky  fishermen  worth  tons 
of  cod  or  mackerel. 

As  darkness  draws  on,  I  think  about  a  refuge  for  the 
nio-ht,  and  wonder  whether  there  is  a  tramp  ward  at 
Dulverton.  If  the  weather  had  been  fine  and  warm  I 
could  have  enjoyed  staying  out  all  night,  for  our  County 
Stipendiary  says  there  is  no  crime  in  sleeping  out  if  one 
has  money  but  no  matches  in  his  pocket.  It  is  always 
well  to  have  ready  money,  but  I  was  so  drenched  and 
dirty  that  even  with  the  necessary  cash  an  innkeeper 
might  refuse  me  a  bed.     1  had  to  chance  it,  and  knowing 


154       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

there  were  two  inns  at  Dulvertoii  named  after  the 
animals  that  are  to  he  down  together  at  the  millennium, 
1  happened  on  the  quieter,  or  inside,  animal  first,  and 
went  in,  pushing  the  bicycle  as  an  emblem  of  re- 
spectability. The  landlord  came,  saying  I  could  have 
a  bed,  and  offered  a  change  of  clothes ;  but  as  his 
clothes  were  far  smarter  than  mine,  I  thought  he 
was  making  a  sporting  offer.  The  boots  acted  as 
valet ;  tea  was  ready  in  a  few  minutes,  and  rest  was 
welcome. 

Soon  after  it  was  dark  a  galloping  horse  was  pulled 
up  at  the  door,  and  eager  voices  caused  me  to  go  with 
others  to  hear  the  news.  Man  and  horse  looked  as  if 
they  had  been  dragged  through  a  pit,  and  excitedly  we 
heard  that  after  the  rain  came  on  many  had  gone 
home,  but  some  deer  were  roused,  and  the  hounds 
were  quickly  on  the  scent  of  a  stag  which  had  gone 
west.  There  had  been  a  terrific  burst ;  only  five  men 
saw  it  through,  l)ut  they  rolled  him  over  in  the  open. 
A  cheer  went  up  from  the  little  crowd  as  for  a  victoiy 
over  the  Boers.  Our  friend  said  he  had  been  gallop- 
ing for  hours  ;  had  not  a  dry  thread  on  him,  but  had 
had  a  rattling  day,  and  was  radiantly  happy. 

''Immortal  Gods,  for  sucli  another  hour 
Then  throw  my  carcase  to  the  dogs  of  Rome." 

We  adjourned  to  the  bar-parlour,  where  everybody 
seemed  to  want  a  drop  of  something  "  short,"  and  I 
"  broke  teetotal."  The  landlord  and  company  all  con- 
gratulated one  another  on  the  death  of  the  stag,  and 
when  I  asked  "Why?"  they  explained  that  no  day 
could  be  successful  or  properly  finished  without  some- 
thing being  killed  Gradually  the  atmosphere  thickened 
like  unto  that  of  a  committee-room  when  the  cigars 
are  paid  for  out  of  the  rates.  The  talk  was  of  horse, 
nothing  but  horse,  until  far  into  the  night.  It  vividly 
reminded  me  how  I,   too,   had    talked  of   horses,  night 


A   HORSEY   BAR-PAELOUK  155 

after  night ;  but  that  was  forty  years  ago,  ere  age 
and  work  had  dulled  the  keenness  for  a  gallop.  With 
us,  horses  are  being  forgotten,  but  here  in  the  liorsiest 
little  town  in  England  I  was  mixing  with  a  more 
primitive  people.  The  baby  still  wants  a  whip  for  the 
gee-gee.  The  boy's  glory  is  to  ride  ;  the  proudest  day 
of  his  life  when  he  is  allowed  spurs.  The  solace  of 
age  is  to  talk  of  what  he  once  could  do  or  what  he 
once  had  seen.  As  some  one  has  said,  the  horse  is  a 
noble  creature,  but  has  a  most  pernicious  influence  on 
every  one  connected  with  it. 

A  sporting  butcher  offered  to  trot  his  little  mare, 
weight  for  age,  against  all  creation  ;  but  the  company 
seemed  to  know  either  the  mare  or  her  master,  for 
there  was  no  heed  to  the  generous  offer.  A  young 
farmer's  grand  colt  had  been  taken  with  colic  and 
"  chucked  it  afore  you  could  wink."  Lady  So-and-So's 
noted  fiery  chesnut  had  sprung  a  curb  and  was  dead 
lame.  The  squire's  old  horse  had  gone  thick  in  the 
wind  and  could  be  heard  half  a  mile.  Bog-spavin, 
Bone-spavin,  Blood-spavin  echoed  around.  I  remem- 
bered them  all,  and  the  words  of  Shakspere  also  :  — 

"  He's  mad  that  trusts  a  horses  health." 
"Let  us  to  bed  and  sleep  for  more  wit.' 

As  soon  as  it  was  lia-Jit  the  constant  clatter  of  horses' 
lioofs  awoke  me,  but  when  I  looked  for  troops  of  cavalry, 
found  hunters  at  exercise.  One  stable  tiu^ned  out 
twenty  with  ten  grooms  and  a  stud-groom  in  the  rear. 
The  boots  came  with  dried  thino-s,  tellino-  me  he  had 
already  cleaned  the  bike,  which  is  rather  unusual.  The 
rain  had  hardly  ceased  and  the  roads  were  very  bad, 
but  there  was  a  railway  station  two  miles  off*,  where 
a  noble  lord  had  given  the  land  for  a  station  and  built 
an   hotel  of  his  own      Thither  I  went,  after   breakfast 


156       PILGRIMAGES   To    OLD   HOMES 

and  settling  my  surprising  bill,  wliich  amounted  to  five 
shillings  for  the  lot. 

Here  my  tale  should  have  ended,  but  curiosity, 
when  at  ease  in  my  own  home,  made  me  look  in  the 
Field  for  the  account  of  the  day's  stag- -hunting  on 
Exmoor.  There  I  read  of  the  afternoons  storm  and 
a  blank  day.  Even  in  this  primitive,  unsophisticated 
moorland  inaccuracies  will  occur,  for  there  was  nothing 
killed,  and  the  deer  all  lived  to  eat  more  turnips. 


GOING   TO    MARKET 


I904 
SOMERSET 

"  Wliaii  that  Aprille  witli  his  shr)wres  sute 
The  clroghte  of  March  hath  perced  to  the  rote 

And  smale  fowles  maken  nielodye 
That  slepeii  al  the  nyghte  with  open  ye 

Than  longen  folk  to  goon  on  pylgryniages." 

THEREFORE,  according  to  Chaucer,  when  April 
came  with  his  sweet  showers  we  were  to  com- 
plete the  pilgrimage  that  had  been  stopped  by 
the  drenching  rains  of  the  previous  midsummer. 
For  this  journey  we  took  the  express  train  to  Bath. 
The  weather  was  fine  when  we  started,  became  overcast, 
and  turned  to  heavy  rain.  We  left  our  bikes  at  the 
station  and  went  off  to  see  the  famous  city.  Manv  are 
the  bits  of  folk-lore  respecting  it,  and  the  time  had 
come  to  test  them  as  we  could  not  cycle  in  the  wet. 
"  Go  to  Bath  and  get  your  head  shaved  "  is  a  piece  of 
advice  often  given.  "When  at  Bath  eat  Bath  1)niis" 
is  a  simpler  recommendation.  ''  See  Bath  and  die  '  is 
a  much  sterner  one,  and  the  probable  fate  of  any  one 
who  recklesslv  does  the  two  hrst.  We  beo^an  with  the 
buns.  X  swallowed  his,  regardless  of  consequences.  I 
struggled  with  one,  but  thought  it  more  suital)le  f  >r  a 
cab-horse. 

Soon  we  were  interested  in  the  never-failing  hot 
waters  that  rush  from  tlie  wells,  and  the  works  of  the 
Romans    all    around    them.      The    citv    autlmrities    are 


158       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

now  taking-  care  of  what  for  ages  has  been  neglected. 
Statues  of  the  Roman  emperors  as  large  as  life  stand 
as  if  they  were  meditating  a  plunge  into  the  steaming 
water  when  the  band  stops  playing.  We  sit  down  in 
the  damp  to  watch  them.  There  is  the  hook-nosed 
Julius  whose  troubles  in  Gaul  were  such  trouble  to  us 
in  our  boyhood.     He  will  soon  begin — 

"  Dar'.st  thou,  Cassius,  now 
Lea]i  in  with  me  into  this  angry  Hood, 
And  swim  to  yonder  point  ?  " 

Thev  are  all  ready,  accoutred  as  they  are,  upon  this 
raw  and  gusty  day,  to  plunge.  Mark  Antony  has  come 
to  Imry  Ca?sar,  not  to  praise  him.  He  will  deliver  the 
oration  over  the  body.  As  I  hesitatingly  try  to  re- 
member what  S.  P.  Q.  R.  stands  for,  X  shuts  me  up  bv 
saying,  "  Small  profits  and  quick  returns  ;  it's  onlv  the 
old  bagman's  motto;  that's  what  he  came  here  for."  The 
Bath  bun,  the  brass  band,  and  tlie  bad  weatlier  doubt- 
less disturbed  his  usual  tranquillity.  The  weather  we 
had  to  endure.  There  are  many  things  to  see  in  the 
o-ioantic  and  lono- hidden  works  of  the  Romans  that 
are  now  being  dug  up  from  under  the  streets  of  Bath. 
Here  was  civilisation  for  four  centuries,  almost  before 
our  history  begins,  and  then  came  long  ages  of  bar- 
barism when  our  forefathers  abjured  w^ater,  hot  or  cold. 

A  bit  of  the  oldest  writing  in  England  has  lately 
been  found  fifteen  feet  below  the  level  of  the  King's 
bath.  It  is  on  a  leaden  tablet  that  was  probably  cast 
into  the  holy  well  (as  into  a  spiritual  post-office)  fifteen 
or  sixteen  hundred  years  ago,  and  has  now  been  de- 
ciphered by  the  Bodleian  librarian.  It  is  from  Vinisius, 
a  Christian,  to  Nigra,  and  mentions  Viriconium,  that  is 
our  well-known  Wriconium  or  Wrekin  citv. 

Damp  and  dismal  we  wander  about  the  abbey  church 
and  some  of  the  streets  feelino-  that  we  cannot  cvcle  and 
liad  better  go  on  by  train   to  Wells.      The  local  trains 


i6o       PILGRIMAGES    TO   OLD   HOMES 

are  very  tantalizing ;  they  struggle  slowly  in  circuitous 
ways  with  trecjuent  changes  and  stops.  Nineteen  miles 
is  the  distance  from  Bath  to  Wells  by  road,  and  the 
train  took  two  hours  for  the  journey.  We  were  nearly 
there  when  we  were  taken  off  at  a  tangent  to  a  place 
with  the  creepy  name  of  Evercreech,  changed  again,  and 
sent  ott'  in  another  direction  to  Glastonbury  ;  changed 
again,  and  roundabout  again.  Everywhere  and  every 
thing  was  wet  and  our  prospects  were  dull.  To  keep  alive 
and  warm  we  tried  gymnastics  in  the  railway  carriage. 
X  practises  touching  the  ground  without  bending  his 
knees,  from  standing  erect  and  back  to  position.  What 
boys  call  "  touching  toes  and  up  again."  I  kissed  my 
own  toe,  or  ratlier  the  boot  that  enclosed  it,  but  he 
said  that  any  puljlic  man  ought  to  be  too  stiff  in  the 
back  for  such  a  [)osition,  especially  one  who  was  sixty 
years  of  age. 

The  next  morning  the  rain  had  ceased,  and  though 
the  roads  were  very  slippery  and  dirty  we  set  off  cycling 
for  Glastonbury.  There  the  light  was  so  bad  we  could 
not  photograph,  and  on  we  \\ent  through  Street,  guided 
by  maps  and  countless  enquiries  for  the  curious  Gothic 
manor-house  of  Lytes  Gary. 

This  old  liome  of  the  Lytes  is  very  picturesque, 
bewitching  for  an  artist,  tantalizing  for  a  photographer. 
The  projecting  gables  of  the  front  face  to  the  north-east, 
and  are  therefore  acrainst  the  lio-ht  of  afternoon.  Fruit- 
trees  crowd  on  to  the  cha})el  and  the  little  forecourt. 
The  interior  is  dark  and  ruinous.  It  has  long  since 
passed  from  the  family,  but  descendants  of  the  old  stock 
have  resumed  the  name,  and  Sir  11.  (\  M.  Lyte,  Keeper 
of  the  Records,  has  written  a  short  history  of  the  place 
and  its  lords,  from  wlience  I  have  gathered  many  of 
the  following  particulars.  He  is  a  grandson  of  the 
Rev.  H.  F.  Lyte,  who  composed  the  well-known  liymn, 
"  Abide  w^ith  me,"  and  I  hope  he  may  ere  long  buy 
back   the  home  of  his  ancestors. 


THE   BAY-AVIXDOW.       1 533 


i62       PILGRIMAGES   To    OLD    HOMES 

The  earliest  mention  of  tlie  name  is  of  William  le 
Lyt,  in  1255.  Peter  le  Lyt  was  the  fonnder  of  the 
house,  and  probably  built  the  chapel  in  1343.  Lyt  is  a 
contraction  of  "little,"  not  of  "light"  ;  the  first  of  the 
name  probably  l)eino-  a  little  man.  A  Thomas  Lyte,  who 
is  thoug-ht  to  liave  built  the  hall,  had  a  Pope's  Bull  in 
1439  giving  full  absolution  for  the  "  synnes  "  of  himself 
and  his  wife  Joan.  The  date  of  1533,  and  initials  I  and  E 
on  either  side  of  the  shield  of  arms  on  the  central  band 
of  the  ffreat  bav-window,  may  even  be  read  in  our 
photograph.  The  letter  I  and  the  swans  on  the  dexter 
side  of  the  shield  stand  for  John  Lyte,  the  E  and  the 
horses'  heads  on  the  sinister  side  for  liis  wife  Edith 
Horsey.  Jolm  Lvte  also  built  "  two  great  portclies, 
the  oriell,  and  closets. '  Over  the  porch  is  the  swan 
holding  the  swan  -  shield  of  the  Lytes,  and  over  the 
adjoining  oriel  is  a  weather-worn  beast  holding  the 
horsey  shield  of  the  Horseys. 

This  John  Lyte  probably  "overbuilt"  himself,  for 
in  1539,  when  abbeys  and  religious-houses  were  falling 
fast  all  around  him,  he  was  summoned  to  appear  before 
the  Abbot  of  Glastonbury,  to  whom  he  owed  /, 40.  He 
paid  the  one-fourth  of  the  amount  on  the  first  Friday 
"  in  the  lytyll  parlor  uppon  the  righte  honde  withyn  the 
gret  hall  of  tlie  al)bey  "  by  producing  tallies  for  thirty 
quarters  of  wheat,  delivered,  at  the  })rice  of  tenpence 
a  bushel.  Then  "  uppon  Saynt  Petterys  day  at  Myd- 
somer  then  beying  Sonday  in  the  gardyng  of  the  said 
Abbotte's  att  Glastonbury  whilles  hio-lie  mass  M'as 
syngyng  made  payment  unto  the  said  Alibott  of  thirtye 
pounds  in  good  aungell  nol)lis." 

The  Abbot  said  he  could  not  tlien  find  the  bond, 
but  would  send  it.  He  never  did  send  it.  for  he  was 
hano-ed  soon  after,  and  John  Lyte  was  ao-ain  asked  for 
payment.  John  Watts,  one  of  the  monks,  and  Lord 
Stourton,  bore  witness  to  the  money  having  ])een  paid 
"in  a  erber  <>f  l)ay  in    tlie  gJ^yi'dyng,  the  Aljbot   being 


LYTES   GARY  163 

very  glad  att  that  tyiiie  that  hit  was  payde  in  golde  for 
the  schorte  tellying  as  also  he  wollyd  iiott  by  his  wyll 
have  hit  sene  att  that  tyme."  It  looks  as  if  the  old 
Abbot  was  perilously  like  the  unjust  steward  in  the 
parable.  Why  did  he  want  "short"  gold  and  count  it 
in  a  garden  harbour  on  Sunday  '.  It  is  professional  to 
take  money  in  church  on  Sundays,  but  not  to  trade 
otherwise.  Perhaps  he  was  "  very  glad "  to  get  it 
before  he  was  hanged,  for  he  knew  it  would  be  no  use 
to  him  after. 

John's  son,  Henry  Lyte,  of  Lytes  Carye,  Esquire, 
wrote,  or  partly  translated  out  of  the  "  Doutche  or 
Almaigne  tongue,"  "  A  newe  Herball  or  Historie  of 
Plantes,"  and  studied  the  cultivation  of  fruit-trees,  &c. 
Forty  years  after  {1618)  his  son  Thomas  noted  there 
were  then  at  Lytes  Gary  "  three  skore  severall  sortes  of 
Apples,  forty  four  of  Pears  and  wardens,  fifteen  divers 
kynds  of  Phnnmes,  Grapes,  Philberts,  Figges  and  many 
other  fruits." 

Thomas  Lyte  wrote  wonderfully.  He  made  out 
pedigrees  of  himself  and  his  king  from  the  Trojan  heroes 
and  a  bit  beyond.  Also  something  possibly  more  useful 
on  "  Gookerye,"  "  Husbandrye,"  "Physike"  [might  be 
dangerous],  "  Markett  matters,"  "  Divers  good  instruc- 
tions wdiich  I  had  found  Ijy  to  deer  experience  in 
husbandrye  in  our  clay  countrye  to  be  trew."  The 
experience  about  the  pedigree  was  not  "  to  deer,"  though 
he  wrote  on  vellum  in  a  hand  fairer  than  any  print,  and 
illuminated  in  "  ritcli  coulers";  for  King  James  gave 
him  a  miniature  of  himself,  by  Nicholas  Halliard,  set 
in  gold,  with  his  initials  in  diamonds.  This  jewel  was 
lately  sold  for  ^2835,  its  original  cost  having  probably 
been  about  as  many  pence. 

Another  pedigree,  more  than  twelve  feet  wide, 
gives  the  descendants  of  his  grandparents  John  and 
Edith,  wdio  were  married  in  1521,  Eight  hundred  and 
thirty-eight  of  tliem  had  accumulated  in  the  1 12  years  to 


i64       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

A.D.  1633.  A  great  tribute  to  the  industry  and  luck  of 
the  family.  He  writes  :  "  This  Genealogie  was  collected 
by  Tliomas  Lyte  of  Lytes  Carie,  Esquire,  Anno  1633  .  .  . 
not  for  any  ostentation  of  birth  or  kinred,  knowing,  as 
saythe  Job,  that  corruption  is  our  mother  and  the  wormes 
our  sisters  and  brethren.  .  .  ."  Several  members  of  the 
family  are  recorded  as  being  by  great  misfortune  "  brent  ' 
or  drowned.  Jane  was  "  not  so  fortunat  as  fayre/' 
Another  Jane  was  "  twise  maried,  tasted  both  of  pros- 
perity and  adversitie.'  The  portraits  of  several  are 
o'iven  in  their  old-fashioned  costumes. 

In  1 63  I  he  ''repayred"  the  chapel,  adorning  it  with 
gorgeous  shields  of  arms  around  the  walls  ;  seventeen 
on  the  north  side  were  of  men's  only  ;  twenty  of  women's 
on  the  south  side.  Their  faded  remnants  now  are 
all  forlorn. 

Other  parts  of  the  house  are  sadly  interesting. 
The  great  hall  is  utterly  darkened  ;  used  as  a  cider- 
cellar,  its  once  splendid  roof  is  all  decaying,  angels  on 
the  corbels  hold  the  proud  emblazoned  shields  of  arms, 
but  their  wings  drop  otf  with  rot  and  damp  behind 
the  barrels  of  the  drink  below\-  The  elaborate  cornice, 
the  pierced  tracery,  the  delicate  pinnacles,  are  wasting 
their  beauty  in  the  dark,  unseen  and  uncared  for.  The 
oaken  panelling  throughout  the  rooms  is  ashen  grey, 
slowly  decaying,  but  often  very  fine.  Up  a  round 
staircase  of  wide  stone  steps  we  pass  through  a  door- 
way into  a  little  vestibule  screened  oflP  from  the  great 
chamber  by  an  oaken  screen  of  linen-{)attern  panels 
carved  with  flowers  and  crested  with  pinnacles.  It 
is  well  worth  better  preservation,  as  it  is  uncommonly 
fine.  One  side  of  the  great  chamber  is  full  of  win- 
dows, and  the  coved  ceiling  of  ornamental  plaster  is 
decked  with  the  swans  of  Lyte  and  the  horses'  heads 
of  Horsey. 

Dowii  the  stone  stairs  we  jro  to  the  o-reat  vaulted 
cellars,    reminiscent    of  the     revelry    of   Ions:    agfo.       A 


THE   CHAPEL.    LYTES   GARY 


L  2 


i66       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD   HOMES 

little  slit  in  the  wall  by  the  claTs  end  of  the  oriel,  or 
private  dining-room  that  was  built  off  the  great  hall, 
is  another  curious  relic.  Through  it  scraps  of  the  feast 
could  be  passed  by  lord  or  lady  to  the  beggars  without, 
but  as  it  is  onlv  the  size  of  the  drunistick  of  a  goose 
or  turkey,  when  held  upright,  the  charity  would  be 
carefully  dispensed.  On  the  inside  of  the  wall  there 
was  probably  a  shutter,  Ijut  no  glass. 

In  the  country  homes  of  England  there  was  for 
ages  a  custom  that  no  beggar  should  be  turned  empty 
away.  At  least  something  should  be  given,  if  only 
bread  and  water.  In  some  great  houses  the  hospitality 
was  unbounded,  but  nowadays  it  is  the  number  of 
tramps  and  vagrants  that  is  unbounded. 

Our  bicycles  were  sheltering  in  an  enormous  cruci- 
form barn.  The  tenant  kindly  showed  us  round  and 
directed  us  to  another  ancient  house  called  the  Abbey 
farm.  At  Charlton  Makerel  Church  where  the  Lytes 
were  buried  many  of  their  effigies  or  mementoes  were 
preserved,  but  all  have  been  lost,  for  what  escaped 
the  reformer  has  been  destroyed  by  the  restorer. 

In  the  afternoon  the  light  became  better  and  we 
hurried  back  to  Glastonbury,  where  at  last  we  could 
photograph,  though  only  for  a  short  time.  Then  to 
the  Pilgrim's  Inn,  where  tliey  still  take  pilgrims  in. 

The  next  day  was  Sundav,  the  weather  beinp'  fine 
but  dull.  It  took  us  an  hour  to  go  three  miles  up 
the  Mendips ;  then  in  a  bleak  country  and  on  bad 
roads  we  cycled  another  fourteen  miles  to  Norton  St. 
Philip,  where  is  the  wonderful  old  inn  with  the  rich 
brown  cider.  Here  we  rested  and  piiotographed,  re- 
turning through  the  town  of  Frome,  where  the  roads 
are  steep  and  twisting  like  a  corkscrew  held  upright. 
The  little  village  of  Nunney  we  ibund  asleep  among 
the  hills.  Here  is  a  castle  or  fortitied  manor-house 
encircled  by  a  moat,  a  small  river  bubbling  past  cottages 
built    at    all    angles,    with    a   cliurcli    upon    tlie  furtlier 


i68       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

bank.  Sir  Joliu  Delamare  liad  licence  to  crenellate 
it  in  1373.  The  family  tonil)s  are  in  the  clinrch. 
Leland  wrote  of  it :  "  A  praty  castle  havynge  at  eche 
End  by  Northe  and  Southe  2  praty  rownd  Towres 
gatheryd  by  Gumpace  to  joyne  into  one.  The  Waulles 
be  very  stronge  and  thykke,  the  Stayres  narrow,  the 
lodginge  somewhat  darke." 

We  went  into  a  farmyard  to  photograph  the  castle, 
and  iinfortnnately  asked  permission  first  instead  of  after. 
A  woman  came  and  solemnly  asked  if  we  thought  the 
Lo]'d  would  prosper  such  work.  I  replied  that  we  could 
tell  better  when  we  saw  how  the  exposures  developed. 
She  told  us  to  go  away  and  come  another  day.  We 
replied  w^e  should  never  come  again.  She  forbade  us  to 
do  any  work  in  her  yard  that  was  not  "  Holy  unto  the 
Lord,"  and  ours  was  not  Avork  fit  for  the  Sabbatli. 

We  e'ot  one  view  of  the  castle  from  the  lane  outside 
her  gate,  and  readers  must  use  their  own  judgment 
as  to  whether  or  not  the  Lord  blessed  the  work.  We 
committed  w^orse  sins  than  photographing,  for  X  was 
cross,  saying  it  was  like  narrow-minded  church-folk,  and 
it  was  throuofh  me  o-oins:  to  the  cathedral  in  the  morn- 
ing  to  what  he  called  "  Early  Mass."  He  felt  sure  the 
woman  was  a  self-righteous  church  goer,  so  I  offered  to 
Ijet  him  that  she  was  a  dissenter,  one  of  those  rabid 
dissenters  who  would  dissent  from  everything  or  any- 
thing. As  the  contention  was  sharp  between  us,  we 
went  to  the  inn  to  settle  the  matter.  They  were  not 
too  religious  to  supply  us  witli  tea  at  tlie  inn,  for  it  was 
not  far  from  the  cliurch  and  they  would  probably  be 
church-folk,  as  they  seemed  deliglited  to  tell  us  that 
our  female  lecturer  was  a  "  primit-tive." 

Refreshed  nnd  llap})3^  w^e  set  off  again  to  climb  the 
Mendips  and  find  our  way  l)y  Shepton  Mallet  back  to 
Wells.  I  constantly  preached  caution  of  the  misfor- 
tunes that  suddenly  come  u})on  the  wicked,  such  as 
side-slip  on   the  greasy  roads;  or  the  jirosperity  of  the 


fjr.    ^3;j^.- 


NUNNEY   CASTLE 


lyo      PILGRIMAGES    TO   OLD    HOMES 

ungodly  being  cut  short  if  they  free-wheeled  downhill 
too  fast ;  or  the  calamity  that  niiMit  overtake  us  in  a 
motor-car ;  but  no  troubles  befell  us,  for  which  we  were 
duly  thankful.  We  are  told  cycling  on  the  Sabbath  is 
a  sill,  photographing  another  sin,  ])etting  another,  and 
entering  a  pul)lic-house  worse  and  Avorse  —  iniserair, 
miserrDiios.  Would  it  have  been  better  to  have  spent 
that  Sunday  evenino-  in  the  fresh  air  of  the  hills 
witli  the  chorus  of  the  birds  in  the  gladness  of  spring- 
tide, or  with  a  headache  in  church  tryino-  to  make 
sense  out  of  what  a  parson  might  shout  at  you,  the 
incoherent  raving  that  he  thinks  is  pure  Gospel  ? 

Mile  after  mile  of  banks  and  woods  all  carpeted  A\itli 
primroses  we  rode  through — cartloads  of  primroses, 
tons  of  them,  in  profusion  everywhere.  I  asked  a  farmer 
who  leaned  over  a  gate  if  there  were  any  Tories  in  this 
country.  He  replied,  "  Oh,  aye,  zur,  there  be  a  vew  left- 
yet."  I  explained  to  him  that  where  we  came  from 
every  primrose  for  miles  had  been  stolen  or  conveyed  by 
the  Tories,  and  if  he  could  sell  those  of  his  they  would 
fetch  more  than  his  wheat.  He  opened  a  mouth  that 
reminded  me  of  a  butcher's  shop,  and  would  have  traded 
there  and  then  if  it  had  not  been  Sunday. 

Three  miles  of  Morions  rolling-  down  the  hills  l^rinos 
us  to  where  the  o-rev  towers  of  Wells  rise  above  the 
encircling  mist,  and  the  light  fades  rapidly  as  we  descend 
among  the  trees  of  the  little  city. 

Our  next  day  was  to  be  a  busy  one  at  Bradford- 
on-Avon.  We  set  off  by  train,  but  when  changing 
carriages  at  Frome  a  postman  marvelled  at  us  as  being 
not  quite  right.  He  was  a  cyclist,  knew  the  roads, 
and  said  we  should  go  quicker  and  pleasanter  by  road 
than  by  the  trains  of  that  country,  so  we  tlirew  the 
railway  tickets  away  and  went. 

The  celebrated  Saxon  church  was  the  first  object 
of  oin-    pilgrimage.       I    had    not    previous! v    heard    the 


BRADFOED-OX-AYON 


171 


theory  that  it  was  orin-jnahv  hiiilt  without  either 
floors  or  windows.  Then  the  chapel  on  the  l)ridge  we 
photographed  in  intervals  of  tratBc.  Wl:ien  used  as  a 
lock-up  it  would  be  very  convenient  to  let  some  of  the 
baser  sort  through  a  false  floor  into  the  river  below. 
This  Broad-ford  of  the  Avon  has  a  long;  historv.      Kinof 


BRADFORD-ON-AVON 


Lear   may   have   seen   the   British   defeated   at   Braden- 
ford  in  652. 

The  o-rand  old  manor-house  of  South  Wraxall  was 
easy  to  find  and  well  worth  the  seeing.  It  is  of  many 
styles  and  ages.  The  terraced  courtyard  reminded 
me  of  Houo-hton  Tower,  but  here  roses  bloom,  and  all 
seems  built  for  more  peaceful  neighbours  and  a  milder 
clime.  The  fierce  fighting  and  the  wild  revelry  that 
raged   round   Houghton  would  here  seem   out   of  place, 


SOUTH    WRAXALL    MANOR-HOUSE 


174       PILGEIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

even  the  flimilv  leirends  are  milder,  more  of  a  milk-and- 
water  tyj^e.  A  second  wife  makes  her  stepson  drunk 
and  ahenates  his  father  from  him,  which  is  common 
enough  in  any  pohce  court  ;  but  a  httle  romance  is 
woven  into  the  tradition  here,  for,  as  the  family  lawyer 
draws  up  the  old  man's  unjust  will,  a  ghostly  hand 
three  times  obscures  the  light,  scaring  even  "  the  devil's 
own  "  from  the  dirty  job.  But  another  of  the  legions 
of  Evil  e'ets  it  done  and  the  testator  dead.  Then  the 
first  one  tells  how  he,  as  an  honest  lawyer,  would  not 
unduly  influence  the  dying  man,  and  there  are  words  and 
scenes,  and  a  renunciation  of  the  will  before  the  burial  is 
allowed.  The  bereaved  widow,  contrary  to  promise,  soon 
marries  again,  and  the  picture  of  lier  former  husband  falls 
upon  her,  causing  her  to  weep,  while  others  jeer. 

South  Wraxall  has  been  owned  by  the  Long  family 
for  centuries.  Leland  says  that  a  lord  Hungerford  set 
a  man  named  Long  Thomas  on  some  land.  He,  or  his 
sons,  developed  into  Thomas  Long,  and  one  of  them 
"  could  skille  of  the  law  "  and  stuck  to  the  land,  having 
two  "  sunnes  Syr  Henrv  and  Syr  Richard."  A  Sir  W. 
Long  fought  at  Edgehill  for  the  Parliament  sometime 
after  becomino-  Rovalist.  Part  of  the  house  was  built 
about  1430,  and  considerably  more  at  the  end  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  Some  of  the  mantel-})ieces  are 
dated  1575  and  1598.  The  drawing-room  has  a  very 
elaborate  one  with  figures  of  Prudentia,  quite  proper 
for  the  place  ;  Arithmetica,  a  female  doing  sums  in  a 
book  ;  Geometria,  with  instruments  not  very  suitable 
for  a  drawing-room ;  and  Justicia,  with  scales  apjDa- 
rently  unjustly  balanced.  Many  other  details  may 
be  seen  in  the  photograph  ;  also  a  bit  of  the  very  fine 
ceiling,  but  nothing  of  the  grand  window.  The  mantel- 
piece in  the  dining-room  is  uncommonly  original.  Two 
Ionic  colimms  rise  to  the  ceiling ;  between  them  are 
two  shields  or  panels  having  Latin  mottoes  on  them, 
and  between  them  sits  a  baboon  on  a  bracket  inscribed 


THt;   UliAWlNG-ROUM 


THE    GATEHOUSE 


M 


178       PILGEIMAGES   TO   OLD    HOMES 

"  Mors  rapit  oiiinia."  Around  tliem  all  are  flowers,  fruit, 
and  human  heads,  tor  the  baboon  or  death  to  carry 
otf  when  dinner  is  over.  In  the  recess  in  tlie  wall  is 
some  tine  china,  and  there  are  more  things  worth  noting 
in  this  fine  old  house  than  we  have  time  for. 

The  most  picturesque  bit  is  the  gatehouse,  but  a 
modern  architect  has  put  as  ugly  a  modern  patch 
alongside  it  as  he  could  imagine.  Why  any  one  should 
let  him  do  it  is  more  than  I  can  imagine.  The  gate- 
house has  narrow,  circular  stairs,  leading  to  the  room 
wdth  the  beautiful  oriel  window.  There  are  squints 
to  see  who  might  be  at  tlie  gate,  and  the  chimney  is 
well  worth  notice  ;  also  the  grotesque  gargoyles  in  the 
courtyard. 

Within  about  two  miles  of  South  Wraxall  is  another 
fine  old  house  at  Great  Chalfield.  It  is  jjrobably  of 
fifteenth  century  date,  but  being  used  as  a  farm  is  not 
so  well  preserved  as  the  other.  We  were  told  there 
was  nothing  inside  the  house,  and  as  it  was  evident 
we  were  not  wanted  we  soon  departed.  The  photo- 
graphs had  to  be  taken  against  the  light,  and  therefore 
the  extremely  beautiful  oriel  windows,  the  carved  stone, 
and  the  four  pinnacles  or  finials  to  the  gables  show 
badly.  These  finials  are  said  to  be  men  in  armour  of 
the  time  of  Henry  VI.  Masks  of  stone  with  perfora- 
tions for  the  eyes  are  lying  hy  the  wall  of  tlie  house. 
They  may  have  been  built  into  the  hall  at  some  time 
for  secret  services,  but  little  is  known  of  them  or  the 
history  of  the  house.  It  is  believed  a  man  named 
Thomas  Tropenell  built  both  the  hall  and  the  chapel 
about  1450  to  1490,  and  inscribed  his  motto  on  it, 
"  Le  joug  tyra  bellement."  If  this  means,  "  The  yoke 
sits  beautifullv,"  we  may  infer  he  married  for  money 
and  s])('nt  it  on  the  house.  Extensive  farm-buildings 
appear  to  include  ruined  fortifications  ;  the  chapel  abuts 
on  the  lawn  in  front  of  the  house,  and  a  moat  engirdles 
all.     The  estate  is  said  to  be  small,  to  have  been  owned 


BARRIXGTON   COUIiT 


iSi 


by  iiiany   families,   and   to  have  suti'ered,   like  so  many 
others,  from  the  lawyers. 

The  next  day,  Tuesday,  we  went  by  train  to 
Yeovil,  very  undecided  as  to  our  further  journey,  but 
making  Barrington  ( Jourt  the  goal  of  our  day's  pil- 
Some    enterprising    land  -  agent    had    tried 


1 

L 

i 

i 

lit  -i  'w^MH^^^^M 

^^^H6-v--j3*^^^^ 

m 

^^^^^.._ 

...^-. 

---'S^^j^^H?^,./,:...' 

...   ..___t.^     ■"■^5* 

mm 

^v 

1 

'"■■i:*."  —iS 

_,, 

GREAT    CHALFIELD    MANOR-HOUSE 


fo  sell  Barrington  Court  to  X,  telhng  him  it  was  one 
of  the  finest  houses  in   Enodand.  to  be  sold  for  a  tithe 

CI 

of  its  cost.  This  is  not  verv  untrue,  and  we  hear  it 
has  since  been  sold  to  the  Society  for  the  Preservation 
of  Places  of  Historic  Interest.  The  ditiicultv  is  to  lind 
the  place,  and  that  little  diihculty  rather  deliglits  us. 

If  we  had  known  that  Trent  was  the  next  station 
to  Yeovil  we  sliould  have  visited  the  village  and  tried 
to  have  seen  the  hall,  for  it  has  one  of  the  undoubted 

M    2 


MONTACUTE  i8 


o 


hiding-holes  used  by  the  young  Charles  for  many  days 
in  his  flio-ht  from  Boscobel.  We  avoided  the  town 
of  Yeovil  and  went  west,  quite  unexpectedly  coming  to 
a  very  large  farmyard  with  fine  old  Gothic  barn  and 
house.  From  the  name  on  tlie  carts  it  is  Preston 
Abbey  farm,  and  that  is  all  I  know  about  it.  It  stands 
by  the  roadside,  venerable  and  picturesque. 

Ere  lone:  we  came  to  a  villa a'e  where  even  the 
cottages  looked  like  bits  of  abbeys — time-worn  stone 
and  Gothic  architecture.  The  natives  have  evidently 
never  known  anything  else  ;  and  let  us  hope  they  never 
will.  The  manor-house  is  one  of  the  noted  houses  of 
EnofLind,  but  we  have  neither  letter  of  introduction 
nor  time  to  stay.  We  did  photograph  the  gatehouse 
of  the  ruined  priory.  It  was  built  about  1520,  and 
is  now  used  as  a  farm.  Behind  it  is  the  conical  hill, 
or  Moas  acutus,  which  gave  the  place  its  name  of 
Montacute.  The  hill  appears  to  be  called  Hamdon, 
famous  among  builders  for  its  quarries  of  good  stone, 
among  antiquaries  for  its  ancient  camp,  and  among 
believers  in  the  miraculous  for  the  finding  thereon  of 
the  Holy  Cross  of  Waltham. 

Our  next  stopping-place  was  Stoke-sub- Hamdon, 
where,  in  our  ignorance  or  natural  depravity,  w^e  never 
went  to  see  an  ancient  church  that  conq)rises  every 
known  or  unknown  style  of  architecture,  but  spent 
some  time  in  an  inn,  the  Fleur-de-Lis,  w^iich  has  an 
arched  doorway,  a  big  room  full  of '  ale  or  cider  barrels, 
and  other  signs  of  having  been  connected  with  bygone 
ecclesiastical  establishments.  A  "  boozy  "  customer  told 
us  he  would  show  us  a  rare  old  castle  that  was  now 
a  butcher's  shop  if  we  would  stand  him  a  pint,  and 
that  would  cost  three-ha'pence.  "  Woe  unto  him  that 
eiveth  his  neio-hbour  drink  !  "  Hardened  sinners  as  we 
are,  we  chanced  it,  and  were  rewarded  with  a  beautiful 
jiicture.  Tlirough  a  tine  archway  of  stone  we  enter 
a   neglected   court,   or    yard,   wherein   are   remnants   of 


THE    BACK-WAY    TO    THK    BUTCHER'S    SHOP,    STOKESUB-Jl  AM  DON 


i86       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

ancient  buildings,  a  ruined  dovecot,  l)ack  premises  of 
modern  shops  spoiling  a  gable  crowned  with  bell-cot. 
Our  guide  calls  this  the  castle,  though  castle,  church, 
and  tombs  we  cannot  see.  Lord  Beauchamp  here  built 
his  fortitied  manor-house  in  1333,  where  also  were 
chapel  and  college  for  priests;  but  all  seems  to  have 
vanished  into  dust  as  he  has,  save  this  picturesque 
entry,  up  which  our  guide  says  we  can  go  and  buy 
mutton-chops.  The  place,  like  so  many  others,  was 
spoiled  in  the  reign  of  Edward  YL,  a  small  part  being 
rebuilt  by  Strode,  who  left  his  mark  on  it  in  1585. 

It  is  written  :  "In  the  multitude  of  counsellors  is 
wisdom,'"  but  the  nudtitude  of  ways  we  were  told  to 
o'o  from  the  Fleur-de-Lis  to  Barrino-ton  Court  was 
rather  confusing.  We  wandered  on  by  many  twisting, 
devious  lanes  to  the  house  we  sought,  to  find  doctors 
in  consultation  over  a  case  of  serious  illness,  and 
therefore  we  did  not  enter.  Externally,  the  house  is 
a  magnificent  stone  building.  The  pliotograph  shows 
seven  gables  in  front  and  otliers  at  the  side,  each 
crowned  with  three  twisted  pinnacles  matching  twisted 
chimneys,  and  all  in  Avarm-coloured  stone.  It  is  not 
known  who  built  it,  but  the  very  absence  of  armorial 
bearings  would  show  me  it  was  built  by  the  Colonel 
Strode  who  was  so  active  in  the  Civil  War  on  the  side 
of  Parliament.  He  and  his  wife  were  of  families  of 
wealthy  clothiers  who  probably  had  not  inherited  arms 
and  disdained  the  vanity.  I  had  difiiculty  in  finding 
or  hearing  any  history  of  Barringtoii,  when  suddenly, 
in  reading  about  tlie  C^ivil  War  in  Somerset,  I  came 
upon   a  very  drainatic  bit. 

William  Strode,  the  son  of  a  clothier  in  Shepton 
Mallet,  was  a  factor,  or  merchant,  with  Spain,  who 
married  a  wealthy  heiress  named  Barnard.  He  was 
one  of  the  first  passive  resisters,  though  he  was  not 
very  passive ;  for,  when  they  seized  his  cow  for  ship- 
money  and  sold  it  for  ^3,   los.  od.  when  it  was  worth 


BARRIN'GTOX   COURT 


i88       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

£6,  he  rescued  the  cow  and  sued  tlie  coustable.  The 
matter  was  referred  to  the  bishop,  aud  he  told  the 
bishop  he  did  uot  examine  the  slieriti'  as  he  should. 
What  flat  blasphemy  I 

In  the  next  few  years  he  bou^-ht  large  estates  and 
was  made  a  Deputy  Lieutenant  for  the  Comity.  He 
advanced  money  to  the  parliament  and  Avas  a  Colonel 
in  the  army  ;  was  defeated  at  Glastonbury  ;  and  elected 
knight  of  the  shire  at  Ilchester.  Pride's  purge  tm^ned 
him  out  of  parliament.  He  was  imprisoned  and  fined. 
Then  his  sympathies  were  for  bringing  back  the  king, 
but  after  the  restoration  he  was  at  loggerheads  again 
about  sending  horses  and  men  for  the  militia.  Here 
are  some  of  his  own  words  relating  to  the  one  day's 
history  of  the  old  house  we  had  journeyed  to  see. 

"Tuesday,  lo  September  1661. — Cornett  Higdon 
with  thirty  or  forty  troopers  came  to  Barrington  howse 
and  entred  the  hall  armed,  sent  for  Mr.  Strode,  seised 
upon  him  in  his  hall,  told  him  he  was  his  prisoner. 
Mr.  Strode  asked  him  by  Avhat  warrant,  hee  layd  liis 
hand  on  his  sword  and  sayd  This.  .  .  .  Then  sayd 
Mr.  Strode  he  is  very  old  and  weake  and  desired  to 
know  whither  he  should  go.  Higdon  told  him  he 
should  know  that  when  he  came  thither.  One  of  the 
troopers  held  him.  Mr.  Strode  showed  liim  a  letter  of 
protection  from  the  Duke  of  Ormonde.  Higdon  ranted 
and  made  a  bussell,  sayd  his  authority  was  by  his 
side  and  he  would  take  him  dead  or  alive  and  would 
not  let  him  out  of  his  sight.  Soe  hee  sent  for  his 
bootes  and  other  things  and  they  took  him  to  Ivill- 
chester,  six  miles  a  wearysome  journey  and  kept  him 
in  an  Inne,  the  George.  Guards  attendinge  him  when 
he  went  to  bed  and  he  was  seventy  two  years  old 
and  very  ill.  Savs  he  was  a  Presbiterian  and  had 
been  soe  ever  since  he  knew  what  religion  was  .  .  . 
'tis  a  hard  matter  to  lye  in  alehouses  so  longe  and  be 


Sl 


I90       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD    HOMES 

caiTved  about    in   trvumphe   three   dayes    and   made    a 
spectacle  of  scorne." 

Coloner  Helver  says  Strode  was  a  "most  dangerous 
false  person  avIio  had  falsified  his  word  before  and  the 
cornett  was  chidd.  He  was  a  presbiterian  and  therefore 
ao-ainst  the  kina'  and  church.  He  had  to  go  on  his 
knees  before  the  king-  and  neighbours  and  heg  pardon 
for  his  manv  sins. "  History  does  not  say  whetlier  he 
was  converted. 

What  a  grand  subject  for  a  picture  by  some  fashion- 
able artist  would  this  forgotten  scene  in  Barrington 
Court  be  I  The  fine  old  hall,  with  the  ofiicer  and  troopers 
of  the  king,  every  one  of  them  a  model  of  grace  and 
beauty,  arrayed  in  the  sumptuous  trappings  of  war. 
In  true  cavalier  fashion  the  young  cavalier  shows  liis 
sw^ord  for  his  warrant,  and  one  can  almost  see  the  old 
Presbyterian  shrivel  up,  with  sprouting  of  horns  and 
tail,  as  he  feels  his  time  has  come  to  be  confronted  with 
his  betters,  possibly  by  His  Holiness  a  Bishop.  We 
have  here  another  glimpse  of  Merry  England  at  its 
merryest.  Tlie  reaction  from  Puritanic  rigour  was 
unbounded.  The  great  Norman  nobles  were  extermi- 
nated in  the  Wars  of  the  Roses,  and  the  new  nobility, 
made  of  base  courtiers  wdio  had  fattened  on  the  plunder 
of  the  charities,  were  being  leavened  in  their  highest 
ranks  by  the  bastards  of  the  king. 

From  Barrinjrton  to  our  bed  at  Wells  was  more  than 
twenty  miles  of  unknown  country.  I  liad  notes  to 
remind  me  of  Martock  and  Muchelney  if  we  were  near 
to  them,  but  there  was  barely  time  to  see  one  of  them. 
Martock  was  further  from  the  homeward  way,  so  we  left 
it,  though  the  church  tower  is  said  to  be  one  of  the  finest 
of  the  manv  fine  towers  in  Somerset.  A  fine  ruined  liall 
is  a  worksho]).  and  a  chapel-barn  used  for  "  ordinary  non- 
conformity, whatever  that  may  mean  among  the  two 
hundred  odd  sects  of  Christians  in  our  free  country. 


MUCHELXEY   ABBEY 


191 


Mucheliiey  Abbev,  foiiiided  on  an  island  in  the 
swamps  A.D.  939,  prospered  for  centuries,  and  is  now 
a  farmhouse,  where  the  cliief  event  of  the  day  is  milk- 
ing time,  and  we  unfortunately  happened  on  it.  The 
abbot's  room  is  well  preserved  and  very  fine,  but  we 
had  to  be  content  with  seeing-  the  cider- cellars,  where 
fan-vaulted  roofs  and  panelled  walls  of  stone  are  the 
artistic  remnants  of  the  '"  studious  cloysters'  pale." 


■■^■hs0: 


MUCHELNEY    ABBEY 


Never  in  om-  Avanderincrs  had  we  seen  anvthino-  like 
the  ruined  religious  houses  and  the  still  stately  churches 
that  we  saw  this  dav.  We  had  no  time  to  see  the  in- 
side of  any  churcli,  for  we  wished  to  cvcle  through  the 
countrv,  visitino-  the  ancient  homes  :  but  in  a  ride  of 
tliirty  to  forty  miles  we  pasised  Yeovil,  Preston  Abbey 
farm,  Montacute  Priory,  Beauchamp  (Jollege  or  Chapel, 
Stoke-sub-Hamdon,  South  Petherron,  Shepton  Beau- 
champ,  Kingslmry  Episcopi,  Muchelney  Church  and 
Abbev,  Huish  Episcopi  (a  magnificent  tower  and  Norman 
doorway),    Somerton,    Glastonburv,    Wells — the    names 


192       PlLGPvTMAOES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

alone  are  suggestive  of  tlie  times  and  the  work  of  those 
who  named  them.  Within  a  few  miles  of  Barrington 
I  find  on  the  map  six  places  named  after  six  saints,  and 
the  coinitrv  round  is  sparsely  peopled  with  farmers  or 
husbandmen.  It  is  said  of  a  district  where  we  wandered 
through  a  few  years  ago  that  the  chief  products  of  the 
land  are  pigs  and  parsons  ;  here  the  pigs  seemed  to  have 


''■^'"  :  jr- 


SOM  EETON 


gained  on  the  parsons,  for  although  the  churches  are 
wondrously  fine,  the  houses  around  are  comparatively 
few  and  far  between.  Cattle  are  tethered  in  the  once 
holy  precincts,  swine  have  their  sties  in  the  courts,  and 
in  many  cases  the  beautifully  sculptured  liomes  of  the 
religious  have  fallen  into  heaps  of  stones. 

"  The  heathen  are  come  into  thine  inheritance ; 
thy  lioly  temple  have  they  defiled  and  made  an  heap 
of  stones." 


PARSONS  193 

After  the  lapse  of  nearly  four  centuries  the  great 
crhne  of  robbing  the  charities  and  the  destruction  of 
the  homes  and  works  of  art  that  generations  of  men 
had  spent  their  lives,  their  labour,  and  their  wealth  in 
beautifying,  is  liorrible  to  those  who  think  of  it.  It  is 
doubtful  if  any  king  or  courtiers,  however  rapacious 
they  may  have  been,  could  have  done  it  if  the  people 
had  resolutely  opposed  it ;  but  they  all  seem  to  have 
been  sickened  of  the  monks  and  clergy,  and  to  have 
let  the  lands  left  for  pious  purposes  be  confiscated  by 
a  vile  king  instead  of  having  the  management  of  the 
charities  reformed.  It  was  confiscation,  not  reformation, 
they  got,  and  possibly  they  deserved  it ;   but  cui  boitof 

In  our  Church  of  England  to-day  the  presentation 
of  a  parson  to  a  "  ciu'e  of  souls"  may  be  bought  and 
sold.  A  young  man  gets  up  in  a  pulpit  and  preaches 
nonsense.  In  any  other  assembly  of  men  he  would  be 
shown  his  errors  and  he  miglit  improve  ;  but  to  con- 
tradict the  most  blatant  nonsense,  or  even  in  extreme 
cases  to  rebuke  insults,  would  be  brawling  in  church. 
If  he  locks  up  and  leaves  idle  his  church  and  school  for 
six  days  in  the  seven  there  is  no  appeal.  The  preacher 
soon  becomes  more  self-conceited,  more  convinced  of  his 
own  righteousness,  if  not  of  his  infallibility,  intolerant 
of  others,  and  quarrelsome  until  it  is  often  said  the 
parson  is  the  most  intolerant  and  quarrelsome  man  in 
his  parish.  He  may  pluck  up  and  throw  aw^ay  the 
flowers  a  parishioner  has  planted  on  his  mother's  grave 
because  that  man  lias  not  asked  his  permission  to  })lant 
in  the  rector's  freehold  and  })aid  a  fee  for  so  doing. 
Even  in  our  day  charities  left  for  the  good  of  all  when 
filtered  through  the  fingers  of  a  parson  are  oft  diverted 
to  his  favourites  only;  and  reasoning  from  the  present  to 
the  past,  it  seems  to  me  that  in  the  great  da  y  of  trouble 
when  the  clergy  were  called  to  account,  the  people  hated 
them  and  let  them  fall,  though  in  doing  so  they  lost 
what  was  their  own. 

N 


BUR  195 

Wednesday,  the  next  day,  was  one  of  the  most 
satisfactory  that  we  ever  had.  We  were  so  satisfied 
with  cycling  against  the  wind  on  a  good  road,  that 
when  we  had  to  chmb  the  Quantocks  with  a  gale 
from  the  Atlantic  fnll  against  us,  and  encumbered 
with  luggage,   we  were  almost  too  tired  to  walk. 

We  took  the  train  to  Bridgewater,  and  without 
tarrying  there — for  we  had  had  to  change  carriages 
twice  in  a  few  miles — sought  the  uncommonly  quaint 
old  manor-house  of  Bur,  or  West  Bower.  Tlie  curious 
turrets  of  stone  contain  some  charming  glass  with 
forjnal  roses  and  archaic  letters.  M,  that  probably 
stood  for  Malet,  also  stands  for  Moss,  and,  as  a 
new  front  door  was  wanted  for  my  house,  I  copied 
the  glass  and  got  some  old  oak  beams  to  make 
another  door.  There  is  an  enormous  circular  dove- 
cot with  thatched  roof,  walls  of  mud  three  feet  thick, 
and  nests  for  one  thousand  pairs  of  pigeons.  It 
is  now  used  as  a  storehouse  for  mangolds,  and  an 
excellent  storehouse  it  makes.  In  this  queer  old 
manor-house  Sir  John  Seymour  is  said  to  have  had 
eight  children,  the  eldest  of  whom,  Jane,  became 
the  mother  of  King  Edward  VI.  Fortunately  for  her, 
she,  in  old-fashioned  phrase,  soon  took  good  ways. 

Going  westerly,  we  made  our  way  in  pleasant 
country  towards  the  Quantock  hills.  Slightly  rising 
ground  at  Nether  Stowey  caused  us  to  walk,  when 
suddenly  my  eye  caught  a  tablet  in  the  wall  of  a 
small  liouse  by  the  road,  "  Here  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge 
made  his  home,  1 797-1800."  He  described  it  as  a 
miserable  hovel,  but  it  has  evidently  been  restored, 
so  we  left  it  alone.  It  was  along  the  way  on  which 
we  were  going  that  he  and  Wordsworth  conceived 
and  began  that  undying  poem,  "The  Bime  of  the 
Ancyent  Marinere" — a  poem  that  for  all  time  to  come 
holds  up  to  scorn  the  wretch  who  shot  tlie  harmless 
albatross.      It    is    an    easy  one   for   boys   to    learn,    and 


%9iff 


BUR   MANOIJ   (OE   COUET) 


THE    DOVECOT 


198       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

some  like  the  recitation.      The  following  bits  are  from 
the  original  version  : — 

"  It  is  an  aiicyeiit  Marin  ere 

And  he  stoppeth  one  of  three. 
By  thy  long  grey  beard  and  glittering  eye 
Now  wherefore  stoppest  me  ? 

Water,  water,  every  where. 

And  all  the  boards  did  shrink  ; 
Water,  water,  every  where, 

Ne  any  drop  to  drink." 

We    saw    nothing    of    the    ghastly    crew    witli    tlie 
glazing  eyes,  that  could  not  die  ;  but  we  went  wdiere — 


And— 


"  The  hermit  good  lived  in  that  wood 
Which  slopes  down  to  the  sea." 

"  Sometimes  a  dropping  from  the  sky 

We  heard  the  Lavrock  sing : 
Sometimes  all  little  birds  that  are 
How  they  seem'd  to  fill  the  sea  and  air 

With  their  sweet  jargoning. 
A  noise  like  of  a  hidden  brook 

In  the  leafy  month  of  June 
That  to  the  sleeping  woods  all  night 

Singeth  a  quiet  tune." 

In  the  wooded  hills  to  our  left  is  Alfoxton  Park,  an 
old  manor-house  that  Wordsworth  tenanted,  furnished, 
f^r  £-3  a  year.  A  remote  and  quiet  place  in  a  beautiful 
country.  But  the  owners  soon  gave  him  notice  to  quit, 
for  it  was  said  that  he  and  his  sister  Dorothv  went 
mooning  about  the  hills  at  all  times  and  in  all  weather, 
possibly  without  their  hats.  They  also  consorted  witli 
two  dangerous  republicans,  Coleridge  and  Southey,  who 
were  staying  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  all  three  of 
them  wa'ote  poetry  which  w^as  not  understood  in 
that  country.       Wordsworth    wrote  about   a   little   girl 


THE   QUANTOCKS  199 

with  curly  bair  who  could  not  count  seven  correctly, 
and  also  of  a  general  merchant  to  whom — 

"  A  primrose  by  a  river's  brim 
A  yellow  primrose  was  to  him, 
And  it  was  nothing  more." 

when  he  ouo-ht  to  have  known  that  it  would  be  a 
political  emVjlem  worn  by  a  sect  of  Christians  in  the 
worship  of  one  of  their  saints  who  ate  primroses  as 
salad  in  the  church's  Lenten  fast. 

If  the  peasants  on  these  lonely  hills  had  anv  tradi- 
tions of  the  past  they  might  well  be  suspicious  of 
strangers.  Here  are  some  extracts,  packed  or  patched 
together,  of  the  history  of  some  of  the  Quantock  lands. 

Several  manors  were  owned  by  Henry  Courtenay, 
Marquis  of  Exeter,  in  1539.  He  was  a  possible  heir  to 
the  throne,  for  his  mother  was  daughter  to  Edward  IV. 
Therefore  the  jealous  tyrant,  Henry  VIII.,  had  him 
beheaded,  and  settled  his  estates  upon  his  tifth  new 
queen.  Then  her  head  was  chopped  off,  and  the  estates 
reverted  to  the  Crown.  To  the  joy  of  Christendom, 
the  Head  of  the  Church  was  taken  away,  and  his  son, 
Edward  VI.,  gave  the  estates  to  the  Duke  of  Somerset, 
who  was  already  one  of  the  most  prosperous  men  on 
earth  ;  for  he  had  acquired  untold  spoils  from  churches, 
schools,  and  charities.  But  ere  lono-  he  also  literallv 
lost  his  head,  and  the  estates  were  given  to  the  Duke 
of  Northumberland.  Then  the  sickly  king  died.  His 
sister,  "  bloodv  "  Marv,  succeeded  him.  and  beofan  aofain. 
She  soon  had  the  duke's  head  chopped  off,  and  gave 
the  estates  to  a  Courtenay.  Ere  long  this  man  died 
"  on  his  own,"  to  use  a  local  phrase,  so  he  was  luckier 
than  his  predecessors.  In  about  fifteen  years  there 
appear  to  have  been  ten  changes  of  ownership — kings 
and  queens  and  the  greatest  nobles  in  England  were 
lords  of  the  land.  One  queen,  a  couple  of  dukes,  and 
an  odd  marquis,  all  had  their  heads  chopped  off.      We 


200       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

hear  little  of  their  serfs,  the  poor  peasantry,  during 
these  exciting  times.  They  were  happiest  who  lived 
their  lives  most  like  to  their  cattle.  If  they  essayed 
higher  fates,  the  burning  faggot,  the  hangman's  rope, 
the  sword,  or  the  dagger,  awaited  them.  If  the 
Anointeds  of  the  Lord,  the  Heads  of  the  Church,  the 
illustrious  nobles,  behaved  as  they  did,  is  it  any  wonder 
if  the  lonely  dwellers  in  the  Quantocks  gave  the  radical 
poets  notice  to  quit  ? 

Our  day's  journey  was  along  one  of  the  finest  roads 
in  England,  through  a  country  rich  and  varied  in  its 
soil  and  scenery,  and  full  of  interest,  historical,  literary, 
warlike,  and  sporting.  It  was  a  day  of  very  hard 
work,  for  we  were  heavily  laden,  travelling  against  a 
wind  that  on  hig-h.  Pfround  became  a  sfale.  Rest  for 
the  weary  came  at  Quantockshead.  Oh,  what  a 
blessing  was  tea  with  Devonshire  cream,  iiome-made 
preserves  from  native  fruit,  and  butter  freshly  made 
from  the  juice  of  cows  I  I  hereby  note  the  remem- 
brance of  our  enjoyment,  heedless  of  the  critic's  scoff 
or  scorn  when  he  reviews  this  book  over  his  dirty 
pipe. 

We  had  left  Wells  in  the  morning,  passing  through 
Glastonbury,  going  by  Edington,  pi'obably  the  site  of 
Alfred's  great  battle  of  Aethandune  against  the  Danes  ; 
Sedgemoor,  scene  of  the  last  great  slaughter  of  English- 
men on  Eno'lish  soil  ;  alonu-  many  a  mile  of  rich  alluvial 
plains  where  the  cattle  fatten  in  peace  in  green  pastures  ; 
and  further  on  tlie  road  rises  towards  the  hills,  where 
the  cattle  give  place  to  sheep,  greyish  brown  sheep 
in  greyish  brown  fields,  and  higher  up  are  the  woods 
and  the  wild  hills  where  remnants  of  the  lordly  red- 
deer  roam,  and  the  sea  comes  in  sight  on  our  right 
hand,  nearer  to  us  as  we  mount  higher,  "  the  stately 
ships  go  sailing  by  "  ;  but  the  wind  from  the  ocean  blows 
us  to  a  walk  until  the  corner  is  turned,  and  one  of 
the   grandest    scenes    on    England's    rocky   coast    is   all 


A   GLORIOUS   SCENE 


20I 


before  us.  The  hills  of  the  o-reat  forest  of  Exmoor 
are  brown  or  blue  as  light  and  distance  sliade  them. 
On  Minehead's  rock  the  waves  are  dashing-.  'i'here 
seems  no  limit  to  the  view  o'er  sea  and  land,  from  the 
dim  coasts  of  Wales  by  the  islands  in  the  Channel 
to  the  blue  haze  of  hills  bevond  the  Beacon  of  Dunkerv. 


A    BIT    OF    CLKEVE    ABBEY 


Close  below  are  charming  parks  and  pleasaunces  at 
St.  Audries,  where  woods  and  gardens  seem  to  slope 
right  down  to  the  shore  amid  the  foam  of  the  sea. 

Very  reluctantly  we  had  to  leave  the  fair  scene  and 
go  "'freeling''  down  to  lower  ground.  Past  Watchet 
we  went  for  Cleeve  to  photograph  tlie  beautiful  ruins 
of  its  little  abbey.      We  found  the  bio^  youno-  woman 


202       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

and  her  father  havino-  a  consultation  about  some  duck- 
lings  in  the  cloisters.  On  seeing  me,  she  said,  "  Oh,  I 
know  you.'  I  replied,  "  Very  likely.  I'm  well  known 
to  the  police,"  and  was  amused  to  hear  her  father  say, 
"  I  don't  know  vou,  and  I've  bin  in  the  force  over 
thirty  yeer." 

Our  pictures  of  bits  of  the  Cistercian  Abbey  of 
Cleeve  must  tell  their  own  tale.  Great  care  is  now 
taken  of  the  fragments  and  ruins  that  are  left.  In 
the  custodian's  garden,  among  the  beds  of  onions  and 
potatoes,  are  beds  of  tiles  shielded  from  the  sun  and 
rain.  Imperishable  tiles  that  bear  the  arms  of  Plan- 
tagenets  and  Norman  nobles  who  once  were  donors 
to  the  abbey  of  what  they  had  gotten,  possibly,  by  force 
or  fraud  from  others  ;  and  now  the  tiles  alone  are  all 
there  is  to  keep  the  once  proud  lords  in  remembrance. 
Even  in  our  time,  we  are  told.  Christians  come  and 
steal,  or,  shall  we  say,  convey,  these  old  armorial 
shields,  unless  they  are  carefully  watched.  It  is  diffi- 
cult not  to  covet  many  things,  but  in  some  the  interest 
or  value  is  lost  when  they  are  torn  from  their  home. 
There  is  a  bell-cot,  or  projecting  shelter  for  a  bell, 
high  up  on  the  wall  of  the  refectory  that  now  is 
crowned  with  polypody  ferns,  though  the  bell  is  gone 
that  told  the  monks  when  the  eels  were  nicely  fried 
or  the  carp  and  egg  sauce  were  ready.  It  was  a 
shame  to  take  the  bell,  as  it  would  be  to  take  even 
the  ferns  from  the  turret  :  fortunately  they  are  out 
of  reach. 

At  the  east  end  of  the  once  splendid  refectory,  or 
hall,  is  a  large  faded  painting  or  fresco  of  the  crucified 
Christ.  To  the  right  of  it  is  a  recess  for  a  pulpit, 
where  one  of  the  brothers  could  read  scriptural  in- 
junctions about  eating  too  much  or  lecture  tlie  others 
on  the  sin  of  gluttony  while  he  watched  the  feeding. 

Pigeons,  or  it  might  appear  more  religious  to  say 
doves,  cooed  among  the  beams  of  the  roof  and  hovered 


204       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD    HOMES 

over  the  liolv  rood.  Tlie  bird  of  wisdom  snored  in 
hidden  crannies,  and  chattering  shepsters  scolded  our 
intruding  presence.  Jackdaws  w^ere  scarce — probably 
the  police-sergeant  took  care  of  his  daughter's  duck- 
lings and  chickens ;  but  all  seemed  peaceful  and 
happy  now,  and  we  enjoyed  our  little  rest  l)efore 
the  lono-  dav's  last  stao-e  to  Dunster. 


AXCIEXT    OVKRMANTEL    AT    TlllO    LUTTKKLL    ARMS 


On  the  following  morning  we  began  photographing 
before  breakfast,  Ijut  the  light  was  dull  all  day,  and  it 
was  our  seventh  day  from  liome.  A  l)ack  wing  of  tlie 
Luttrell  Arms  inn  was  the  first  bit  to  take,  and  a  more 
])icturesque  kitchen  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  if  we 
omit  the  grander  one  at  Glastonbury.  In  an  upper 
ro(.m    ail     overmantel    in     plast(^)'    shows     some     curious 


THE   PRKSEXT   FRONT    DOOR   OP   DUXSTER  CASTLE 


2o6       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD    HOMES 

costumes  of  about  a.d.  1620.  The  centre  panel  has 
three  trees  with  three  dogs  eating  a  man.  The  women 
at  the  sides  look  the  other  way  and  seem  grotesquely 
pleased. 

Having  a  letter  of  invitation  from  the  squire,  or 
King  of  Dunster  as  he  is  locally  termed,  to  visit  him  in 
the  castle,  we  waited  impatiently  until  it  was  probable 
he  was  comfortably  downstairs  and  had  read  his  letters 
before  we  presented  ourselves.  The  old  gentleman  re- 
ceived us  himself;  very  kindly  showed  us  round,  and  left 
us  to  photograph  anything  we  liked.  Then  the  em- 
barrassment of  riches  and  fugitive  time  bothered  us. 
The  very  rare,  interesting  coranii,  or  leather  hangings 
required  long  exposure  for  some  parts,  while  the  shiny 
surface  reflected  light  in  others.  They  are  believed  to 
be  of  seventeenth  century  date  and  Venetian  or  Italian 
workmanshi}),  painted  and  glazed,  representing  Antony 
and  Cleopatra  with  their  courtiers. 

The  original  Chippendale  chairs  and  settees  we 
understood  better,  and  were  told  they  had  not  been  out 
of  the  castle  since  they  were  made.  China  teacups  with 
the  arms  of  Luttrell  were  made  in  China  before  any  one 
in  England  could  make  them.  Many  other  treasures 
were  courteously  shown  to  us  by  the  squire,  his  lady, 
and  daughter.  The  staircase  is  w^ondrously  massive  yet 
finely  carved,  and  the  profile  head  of  Carolus  11.  dates  it. 
There  is  a  secret  and  dark  hiding-hole  behind  the  bed  in 
one  room.  A  fireplace  is  dated  1620  and  a  coat-of-arms 
1589.  A  ceiling,  elaborately  ornamented  in  ])laster  and 
dated  1681,  was  shown  as  being  very  fine  ;  but  infinitely 
finer  to  me  was  the  view  from  the  window.  It  would 
seem  impossible  to  have  a  fairer  scene  than  tliat  across 
the  sea  to  distant  Wales  and  the  Quantock  hills,  with 
the  park  and  miles  of  wooded  country  far  below  the 
lordly  tower  on  the  height. 

The  extreme  top  of  the  tor  is  now  a  gardeii  or 
bowlinof-pfreen,  for  when  the  castle  was  "  sleio-hted,"  or 


THE   GRAND   STAIRCASE,    DUXSTER 


THE   OLDEST   DOOK   (EDWARDIAN) 


2IO      PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

reduced,  in  1650,  the  keep  and  St.  Steven's  Cliapel,  wliich 
had  been  there  four  hundred  years,  were  totally  de- 
molished. The  buildings  that  remain  are  of  ages  far 
apart  from  one  another.  Existing  documents  tell  many 
interesting  bits  in  the  history  of  Dunster,  and  have  been 
fortunately  pul)lished  or  edited  by  Sir  Maxwell  Lyte  in 
"  Dunster  and  its  Lords."  To  that  work,  and  also  to 
his  writings  on  Lytes  Gary,  I  am  much  indebted. 

The  most  curious  thing  in  the  long  and  chequered 
history  of  that  "  right  goodly  and  stronge  Gastelle  of 
Dunestorre '"  is  that  only  once  has  it  ever  been  bought 
and  sold  ;  and  then  l^y  one  widow  to  another.  At  the 
Conquest  the  de  Moion,  Mohun,  Moyon,  or  Moon,  &c., 
turned  out  Aluric  the  Saxon  and  held  the  Torre.  It 
was  then  washed  by  the  sea,  and  in  1183  the  reeve 
of  Dunster  was  heavily  fined  for  exporting  corn  from 
England.  In  1376  Dame  Joan  de  Mohun,  or  Moun, 
sold  the  succession  to  the  castle  and  manor,  and  the 
manors  of  Minehead  and  Kelton,  and  the  Hundred  of 
Carhampton,  to  Lady  Elizabetli  Luterel  for  live  thou- 
sand marks,  the  equivalent  of  ^3333,  6s.  8d.  ;  but  that 
sum  should  be  multiplied  Ijy  a  himdred  to  make  the 
equivalent  more  just  at  present  values.  The  original 
recei])t  given  for  the  money  is  still  in  existence  among 
the  documents  of  the  castle.  Lady  I^uterel  was  a 
Courtenay,  grand-daughter  of  Edward  I.,  and  died 
before  Dame  Joan,  but  Sir  Hugh  Lutrell,  her  son,  got 
the  estates  after  years  of  litigation. 

Sir  Hugh  was  "Great  Seneschall  of  Xormandie," 
received  the  surrender  of  several  French  towns  in  the 
time  of  Henry  V.,  and  l)uilt  the  present  gatehouse  to 
the  castle  in  141 9.  Like  Sir  Hugh  Calveley  of  Cheshire 
and  others,  he  was  doubtless  ei niched  with  the  spoils  of 
France.  Inventories  of  his  plate  are  in  existence  ;  for 
instance,  "an  liie  coppe  ycoveryd  with  ft-theris  yplomyd." 

In  1460  Jamys,  or  James,  Lutrell  took  up  arms  for 
the  Lancastrians  and   died   of  wounds   received   at   the 


THE   LFTTP.ELLS  211 

second  battle  of  8t.  Alhans.  Edward  IV.  gave  his 
estates  to  Herbert,  Earl  of  Pembroke,  who  kept  them 
till  the  other  side  had  him  beheaded,  when  his  son 
succeeded  him.     It    was    not    till  after    Bosworth    fioht 

o 
and    twentv-four   years    had    passed    that    vonnu"    Huirh 

Loterel  got    his   own    again,  with    the  experience  that 

lawyers  were  as  bad  as  civil  war. 

At  the  "  Reformation "  the  Lnttrells  secured  the 
Priorv  of  Duiister.  witli  its  appurttMiancrs  :  Init  when 
Queen  Marv  came  to  the  throne  she  was  told  that  the 
Thomas  Luttrell  of  her  day  had  married  a  wife  to 
whom  his  mother  had  been  godmother,  and  therefore  the 
married  couple  "  in  religion  ''  were  brother  and  sister. 
This  was  a  crime  endano-erino-  excommunication,  and 
only  the  Pope  could  rectify  the  awful  consequences. 
Of  course  they  got  off  by  paying  fees  or  blackmail ; 
but  it  does  seem  very  hard  that  such  an  ideal  arrange- 
ment as  a  vouno-  man  marrviuff  a  airl  to  whom  his 
mother  had  been  godmother,  and  had  therefore  known 
her  from  a  child,  and  her  parents  before  her,  should 
be  an  excuse  for  plunder. 

Thomas  seems  to  have  been  impetuous  in  other 
matters,  for  he  died  young,  leaving  his  son  in  ward  to  a 
London  laAvyer.  Naturally,  the  lawver  robbed  every- 
body— more  or  less  according  to  law.  He  appears  to  have 
Ijought  the  tithes,  and  paid  a  curate  eight  pounds  a  year 
to  do  the  clergyman's  work,  to  claim  a  shoulder  of  every 
deer  as  tithe,  and,  worst  of  all,  to  have  young  Luttrell, 
aged  about  fifteen,  engaged  to  his  daughter,  who.  the 
neighbours  said,  was  "a  slutt."  and  the  boy  would 
be  "  utterlie  cast  away  in  mariing  with  such  a  mi.serees 
daughter."  The  young  heir  was  wed  at  twentv,  and 
possibly  the  father-in-law  soon  died  ;  for  George  Luttrell 
spent  much  money  in  rebuilding  parts  of  the  castle. 
Somewhere  about  1 600  he  erected  the  charming  octa- 
gonal market-cross  in  the  street  near  to  the  inn. 

In  his  son's  time  came  the  Civil  War,      Duiister  was 


K-v^ 


THE    GATEHOUSE    OF    I4I9.    FROM    OUTSIDE 


i^ST^-V; 


THE   GATEHOUSE   OF    I419.    FROM    JNSIDE 


O    2 


2  14       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

held  for  the  parHameiit,  given  up  t<>  the  king,  besieged 
b\"  parliament  for  i6o  days,  and  surrendered.  Twenty 
men  of  the  garrison  were  killed,  and  four  shillings  and 
eightpence  spent  in  bell-ringing  for  the  victory.  During 
the  siege  a  shi])  from  Wales  anchored  at  Watchet  for 
the  relief  of  the  g-arrison  ;  but  the  tide  left  it  nearly 
drv,  and  Popham's  troopers,  who  were  literally  liorse- 
marines,  rode  into  the  water  and  took  the  ship. 

Omitting  all  modern  history  of  the  most  interesting 
castle,  church,  and  town  of  Dunster  and  its  lords,  it 
should  be  noted  that  since  the  (  ivil  War  many  great 
alterations  have  inevitably  been  made.  In  17  6  a 
carriage -drive  was  made  around  and  up  the  castle  hill, 
being  further  extended,  in  1763,  with  a  bold  sweep 
ascending-  to  a  new  front  door  on  the  north-west  side  of 
the  house,  the  former  front  door  being  on  the  other  side, 
on  the  slope.  Important  additions  were  made  to  the 
castle  in  recent  years.  Tlie  tower  on  Conygar  hill, 
which  is  such  a  conspicuous  landmark  at  the  other  end 
of  the  village  street,  was  built  in  1775.  and  in  1825  the 
timber-sheds  in  the  main  road  were  swept  away,  to  its 
immense  improvement. 

The  Dunster  estate  corresponds  very  closely  with 
that  which  the  Luttrells  bought  from  the  Mohuns  in 
the  reign  of  Edward  III.,  augmented  by  lands  inherited 
at  Quantockshead  and  Withycombe.  The  family  arms 
generally  used  were  a  bend  V)et\veen  six  martlets,  but  in 
the  course  of  time  many  differences  and  variations  were 
adopted.  The  crest  was  a  fox,  and  it  is  amusing  to 
read  in  the  chapter  on  the  heraldry  in  the  book  above 
quoted,  that  when  Sir  John  Lutn-l].  about  1428,  took 
an  otter  for  his  badge,  the  lawyers  oljjected.  They 
would  naturally  prefer  a  fox.  It  would  seem  that  the 
family  name  may  originally  have  been  Norman,  meaning 
"  little  otter." 

The  beautifully  illustrated  "  Loutrell "  psalter  that  is 
well  known  to  antiquaries  as  showing  the  dress,  armour, 


2i6       PILdlUMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

and  arms  of  its  period,  was  illuminated  for  Sir  Geoffrey 
of  Iriiham,  Lincolnshire,  about  1340.  Under  the  head- 
ing, "  Dns  Galfridus  Louterell  me  fieri  fecit,"  he,  his 
horse,  wife,  and  daughter  are  represented  in  full  dress, 
every  inch  bedecked  with   bends  and  martlets. 

Of  all  the  stately  homes  of  England  that  in  our 
little  wanderings  we  have  seen,  Dunster  Castle  is  the 
most  beautifully  stately.  The  grand  houses  in  the 
classic  style  of  Grecian  temples  or  Italian  palaces  where 
many  of  our  English  nobles  dwell  convey  no  sense  of 
home  to  me.  They  are  too  stift'  and  formal  for  happi- 
ness. Comfort  could  not  exist  in  their  frigid  grandeur. 
The  nooks  and  corners  of  the  many-gabled,  timbered 
halls  of  Cheshire  and  the  country  round  are  the  homes 
for  cosy  comfort ;  or  the  old  gardens  where  the  roses 
grow  on  the  walls  of  the  house,  and  the  twilight  brings 
again  the  sad  and  happy  memories. 

The  castle  at  Dunster  has  grown  with  the  times,  its 
stones  bearing  record  to  the  cha.nges  in  the  liome  life 
of  Englishmen.  Graduallv  has  the  fortress  become 
the  comfortable  home.  No  modern  sham  or  classical 
monstrosity  is  here ;  neither  has  the  name  of  castle 
or  fimily  been  changed.  Morris  has  not  assumed  tlie 
name  and  arms  of  De  Montmorency,  Vilikins  of  De 
Winton,  Hunt  of  De  Yere,  or  Smith  and  Jones  the 
many  aristocratic  aliases  under  which  they  hide. 
Louterel  is  Luttrell  still  though  spelt  in  many  ways, 
and  the  time-honoured  Lutrell  of  Dunster  is  infinitely 
better  than  any  name  or  title  mixed  up  with  the 
ridiculous  Norman  "  de." 

In  the  beginning,  or  as  near  to  it  as  we  can  get, 
the  Tor,  or  steep  rock  (possibly  the  Tor  on  the  downs, 
or  Dunestor),  was  the  fortress  of  prehistoric  man. 
Its  crown  or  summit  is  now  a  garden  lawn  with  nothing 
more  excitinix  than  a  o-ame  of  bowls  where  once  the 
arrows  whistled  and  the  bolts  of  tlie  crossbow  wliirred. 
The  castle's  stones  still  show  the   work  of  Plantagenet, 


a2 

= 

<H 

O 

tf 

s 

.„ 

a 

r^' 

Q 

^ 

t^-i 

Oj 

& 

<u 

J5 

D 

"S 

^ 

a 

5 

,_- 

br. 

?r 

o 

o 

K 

^ 

5 

i 

h:^ 

'—-' 

x 

2iS       PILGIUMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

Tudor,  and  Stuart  times.  Oii  them  are  p-rafted  all 
that  art  and  wealth  can  give.  When  the  descendant 
of  a  hundred  knights  and  esquires  showed  me  a  fine 
old  ceihng,  the  view  from  the  Avindow  was  all  that 
I  could  see.  Scores  of  miles  of  land  and  sea  in  varying 
light  and  shade  lay  far  and  wide  before  us.  We  were 
literally  pei-ched  aloft  as  in  an  eagle's  eyry  with  a  drop 
of  some  two  hundred  feet  to  the  park  below.  On  the 
right  came  down  the  hills  of  Exmoor  to  a  green  and 
fertile  country.  Beyond  the  ruined  Abbey  of  Cleeve 
were  the  Quantocks,  where  we  had  journeyed  yesterday. 
The  isles  of  Flat-holm  and  Steep-holm,  from  whence 
Danes  ravaged  and  where  hermits  dwelt,  were  in  the 
glistening  sea,  and  further  still  were  the  blue  mountains 
of  Wales  and  the  dim  smoke-cloud  of  its  coal. 

Tliough  this  fair  scene  w^as  so  far  spread  and  so 
rare,  the  homely  feeling  of  the  room  was  not  destroyed  ; 
perhaps  it  was  strengthened  by  the  simple  fact  that 
tlie  footman  was  removing  ihe  breakfast  things  from 
the  table  by  the  window  as  we  talked  of  the  surrounding 
beauty.  The  blackbird's  mellow  fluting  seemed  to  say 
that  here  was  no  Avearying  of  the  golden  hours.  By 
the  narrow  terrace  walk  the  lauristinus  from  the  shores 
of  the  Mediterranean,  the  fig-tree  of  Persia,  the  camelHa 
of  China,  the  Choisya  or  Mexican  orange-flower,  the 
pampas  grass  of  South  America,  the  Chusan  palm  of 
the  isles  of  the  Pacific,  flourished  luxuriantly  ;  ^A'hile 
on  the  castle's  walls  were  the  flowers  of  the  creeper 
known  as  "  lobster  claws,"  and  the  ripe  lemons  lunig 
in  the  open  air.      In  England  now. 

From  Bath  to  Dunster  we  had  joiu'neyed  up  and 
down  this  land  of  the  Somer-seat.  It  had  been  a  week 
of  hard  work,  of  great  enjoyment  and  instruction. 
Begun  in  the  wet  and  ending  in  wet,  the  weather  had 
been  fairly  good  and  we  had  escaj^ed  accidents.  After 
Dunster  all  would  appear  tame,  and  we  were  homesick  ; 
so    we    took    the    train    to    Taunton    to    go    on    by   the 


DUNSTEK 


219 


northern  express  for  home.  As  one  corner  of  the 
land  is  "wedded  to  immortal  verse,"  let  me  end  with 
some  of  it  learnt  more  than  fifty  years  ago  and  well 
remember'd  : — 

"  He  jn-ayetli  well,  wLo  loveth  well, 
Both  man  and  bird  and  beast; 
He  prayeth  best,  who  loveth  best. 
All  things  both  great  and  small : 
For  the  dear  God,  who  loveth  us, 
He  made  and  loveth  all." 


OUTSIDE  THE  BEDROOM  DOOR 


COMPTON  WYNYATES 


THE  old  liome  of  the  Comptoiis  at  (/Omptou 
Wynyates,  or  Winyates,  has  been  so  belauded 
bv  enthusiastic  searchers  for  the  picturesque 
that  it  seemed  to  be  our  bounden  duty  to 
journey  thither  and  see  if  it  were  worthy  of  the  praise 
that  has  been  bestowed  upon  it.  It  is  very  beautiful. 
Architect  or  artist  may  see  this  ideal  media? val  home, 
dream  about  it  and  despair,  for  the  realisation  of  their 
fondest  dreams  could  not  surpass  it.  If  they  built  the 
like,  thev  would  be  o-one  long^  before  Time's  etlacincr 
fingers  had  toned  the  modern  work.  It  is  safe  from 
the  tourist  crowd,  for  it  is  miles  away  from  everywhere, 
hidden  in  a  hollow  in  the  hills.  Its  seclusion  has  saved 
it,  for  the  wealthy  restorer,  who  may  be  the  architect 
of  his  own  fortune  but  of  nothing  else,  prefers  to  live 
nearer  to  a  railway  station,  and  the  nol)le  owner  pre- 
serves it  Ijut  lives  elsewhere. 

Our  railway  tickets  were  taken  for  Warwick  as  we 
intended  to  cycle  from  there,  but  at  Milverton  junction, 
which  is  near  to  Warwick  and  to  Leamino-ton,  the 
guard  advised  us  to  go  to  the  latter  ;  so  on  we  went, 
and  found  our  bikes  had  been  put  on  the  platform  of 
the  junction  while  we  were  talking,  and  therefore  we 
had  to  return  at  once  for  them.  A  tvre  had  burst 
(possibly  with  the  heat  of  the  sun),  but  we  rode  on  to 
Leamincrton  and  booked  for  Banburv.  X  had  a  new 
tyre  on  his  machine,  and  while  we  waited  I  suggested 
having  some  Banljury  cakes,  but  he  shuddered  and 
turned  pale.      He  had  had  some  of  those  famous  cakes 


222       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

many  years  ago,  and  well  remembered  them.  He  asked 
me  to  keep  far  from  liim  if  I  ate  any,  or  we  should  both 
be  ill. 

"Ride  a  cock  'oss  to  Banbury  Cross 
To  see  a  fine  lady  ride  on  a  white  'oss, 
With  rings  on  lier  fingers,  and  bells  on  her  toes, 
She  shall  have  music  wherever  she  goes." 

We  found  the  Cross  and  also  the  lieindeer  Inn, 
where  there  is  a  fine  Jacobean  court -room  with  great 
window  and  orioinal  hicrh  table,  from  which  to  have 
lunch.  For  worldly-minded  pilgrims  an  inn  is  more 
useful  than  a  cross.  On  sale  are  postcards  and  pictures 
of  many  sizes,  showing  the  court-room,  as  it  is  and  as 
it  was,  when  some  gallant  cavalier  was  being  tried  by 
the  psalm  -  singing  puritans.  The  gallant  cavalier  is 
naturally  a  fine  young  gentleman  in  light  blue  stockings 
with  flowing  golden  locks,  while  his  ugly  persecutors 
are  in  solemn  black  ;  for  if  the  artist's  sympathies  were 
not  on  the  side  of  the  wealthy,  they  had  to  be  sup- 
pressed or  the  picture  would  not  sell. 

Leaving  Banbury,  we  went  ofl"  into  the  lanes  of 
Warwickshire,  guided  by  a  map  and  faith.  We  had  no 
fear  of  losing  our  way  on  a  sununer's  day  and  in  a 
cultivated  country,  for  we  had  found  places  i'nv  more 
outlandish  than  any  that  could  be  in  that  famous  little 
country.  The  country  did  not  seem  to  me  to  be  as 
fertile  as  I  expected.  The  trees  were  not  over-luxuriant ; 
the  barley  had  a  bluish  tinge,  aiid  the  land  generally 
looked  dry.  X  had  another  small  accident  with  his 
bike,  and  not  wishino-  to  disturb  him  while  he  tinkered 
at  it,  I  sat  on  a  gate  and  ate  ]3an])ury  cakes,  but  nuist 
confess  that  they,  being  all  currants  and  puff,  w^ere  not 
as  wholesome  as  the  fat  bacon  or  the  apples  of  other 
years. 

As  we  were  carefully  going  down  a  very  steep  and 
narrow  lane  shaded  by  woods  and  high  hedges,  we 
suddenly  got  a  glimpse  of  Compton-in-the-hole,  as  once 


2  24 


PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 


it  was  called,  in  the  field  or  park  below  us.  The  name 
is  interesting,  for  Winyates  is  said  to  be,  and  probably 
is,  a  corruption  of  "  vineyards."  There  are  many  places 
named  Compton,  and  in  these  days  they  need  an 
additional  name.  Here,  in  the  sheltered  valley,  or  cwin 
of  the  British,  the  wandering  Saxon  settled  to  found  his 
town,  and  as  the  English  grew  in  luxury  they  planted 
vinevards.  But  the  native  wine  would  be  far  too  weak 
for  the  native  taste.  They  could  make  it  much  better 
from  gooseberries  than  from  grapes,  and  even  Puritans 
^^ould  prefer  home-brewed  ale  or  cider  to  sour  wine. 
Therefore  the  vineyards  were  abandoned,  probably  at 
the  time  of  the  Reformation,  and  we  may  proceed. 

A  short  avenue  of  gigantic  trees  leads  to  a  sj^acious 
lawn  and  a  fine  old  house  of  many  colours.  It  is  very 
difi'erent  from  the  timber-built  halls  of  Pitchford, 
Speke,  or  Moreton,  that  we  have  pictured  before  ;  they 
are  black  and  white  ;  this  is  a  harmony  in  greys 
and  browns,  of  many  styles,  and  of  many  materials. 
Sculptured  stone,  moulded  brick,  carved  timber,  all  are 
there.  From  mottled  roofs  rise  twisted  chimneys,  spiral, 
fluted,  clustered,  zigzagged.  Snow-white  doves,  all  pure 
from  smoke,  are  perching  on  them.  Roses  cluster  round 
the  windows,  lichens  deck  the  walls.  Glorious  sunlight 
and  cool  shade  seem  to  blend  in  one  harmonious  whole 
— a  fine  old  English  home. 

About  1 5 19  Sir  William  Compton,  who  was  a 
companion  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  built  this  house,  partly 
from  the  ruined  Fulbrook  Castle  which  stood  in  the 
park  where  Shakspere  did  his  bit  of  poaching.  The 
magnificent  timber  roof  of  the  lofty  hall  probably  came 
from  there  ;  and  behind  the  screen  is  a  spacious 
minstrels'  gallery  in  black  and  white.  The  gatehouse 
is  elaborately  ornamented  with  armorial  bearings, 
heraldic  monsters,  flowers,  fruit,  and  lizards,  all  chiselled 
in  relief  on  the  stone.  The  well-known  portcullis  is 
there,  and  what  we  are  told  are  the  triple- towered  Castle 


COMPTOX   WINYATES 


226       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

of  Castile,  and  the  pomegranate  of  Granada,  sliow  that 
Katharine  of  Aragon  was  in  favour  when  this  great 
work  was  done.  The  well-worn  doors  are  decorated 
with  the  linen  pattern,  and  in  the  gateway  itself  there 
is  much  to  see  and  study.  Through  it  the  Earl  of 
Northampton  and  his  three  sons  went  to  the  light  at 
Edgehill  with  tlieir  well-equipped  regiment  of  green- 
coats,  and  against  it  seven  hundred  soldiers  of  the 
Parliament  sat  down  in  siege.  Of  course  they 
plundered  all  things  and  destroyed  tlie  church.  Tlie 
Compton  monuments  they  threw  into  the  moat,  but  as 
they  foiuid  some  pots  of  money  sunk  there  Providence 
must  have  helped   them. 

A  renuiant  of  the  moat  is  left,  but  Avhere  it  wound 
around  the  house  is  now  a  level  lawn.  The  cliurch  has 
been  rebuilt,  and  there  are  lovely  gardens.  An  enor- 
mous clematis,  with  a  trunk  like  an  anaconda  stranelintj- 
another  tree,  attracts  my  attention ;  also  the  yellow 
jessamine.  Roses  are  everywhere ;  in  fact  we  had 
ridden  through  miles  of  tliem.  Tliey  seem  to  revel 
in  AVarwickshire. 

Civil  war  is  not  the  only  strife  whereby  this  fine 
old  house  was  lost.  The  armour  and  furniture  and 
^50,000  worth  of  timber,  we  are  told,  were  sold  to  pay 
election  expenses,  and  that  sounds  dreadfully  prosaic 
and  modern   to  a  fellow-sufferer. 

It  was  in  the  good  old  days  when  members  of 
Parliament  were  openly  treated  or  bribed,  and  electors 
"  lived  like  fighting-cocks,"  with  the  extra  expense  of 
strong  drink  (which  the  cocks  wisely  declined).  Even 
then  tliere  was  something  more  ruinous  than  elections, 
for  when  Lord  William  Compton  was  to  marry  the 
great  heiress,  Miss  Spencer,  she  drew  up  a  list  of  her 
demands,  from  which  I  make  the  following  few  extracts. 

"  £  I  200  a  year,  pin-money.  Three  saddle  liorses,  two 
gentlewomen  each  to  have  a  horse,  six  or  eight  gentle- 
men and  two  coaches  lined  with  velvet  and  four  pairs  of 


IttiM. 


THE   tJATKHOL'^SK    OK    FRONT    UOOR 


THE    TKRRACK    (;ARDEX 


A   DEAR   WIFE 


229 


horses.  Spare  coaches  and  horses  and  coach  for  gentle- 
women, for  it  would  he  undecent  for  them  to  he  mump- 
ing alone.  Washmaids,  laundrymaids,  chamhermaids,  a 
gentleman  usher  and  two  footmen,  twenty  gowns,  ^6000 
for  jewels,  and  ^4000  for  a  pearl  chain,  silver  warmijig 
pans,  &c.,  &c.  '  You  '  to  pay  all  wages.  '  You  '  to  pay  all 
dehts.  And  all  to  he  douhled  when  '  vou  '  are  an  Earl." 
What  a  A-ery  dear  wife  I  In  our  salad  davs  we 
were  told  that  no  one  is  poorer  for  heing  married,  for 


THE    CO UXCIL-CH AMBER 


the  wife  shares  all  the  trouhles  and  expenses  and 
douhles  the  comforts. 

An  oak  tahle  was  left,  twentv- three  feet  lono^ ; 
perhaps  no  one  would  huy  it,  and  it  would  he  too 
hard  to  chop  or  hurn. 

Yerv  interesting  is  the  inside  of  the  house  to  any 
one  who  can  read  the  liandwriting  of  the  walls  and  see 
why  it  was  built  as  it  was  built.  (.)ne  who  has  spent 
many  liours  of  many  years  in  council-chambers  never 
saw   a   council-chamber   anything  like  to  this.      Subtle 

p  2 


230       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD    HOMES 

brains  must  have  schemed  it  for  terribly  troublous 
times.  In  a  tower,  aloft,  above  the  house,  is  a  small 
room  that  appears  to  comprise  all  one  floor  of  the 
tower.  No  one  can  look  in,  or  listen  at  the  windows. 
There  are  six  doors,  more  or  less  hidden  in  the  panel- 
linof.  One  flio-ht  of  stairs  p'ives  access  from  below,  and 
only  one  ;  but  there  are  three  separate  flights  that  give 
retreat  upwards.  Why  are  there  three  all  going  up- 
wards \  That  is  rather  puzzling.  They  are  all  s})iral, 
and  easily  could  l)e  defended.  The  hunted  might  come 
down  one  as  the  hunters  were  seeking  him  up  another. 
There  is  a  priest's  room  above,  with  three  little  windows 
all  looking  different  ways,  and  there  is  another  hiding- 
hole  at  the  back  of  the  big  fireplace  where  some  one 
might  have  a  warm  time  as  his  foes  were  searching  for 
him.  Our  guide  had  told  us  of  six  doors,  and  as  I  want 
to  thoroughlv  understand  it  all,  he  shows  another  secret 
closet  where,  through  a  tmp-door  in  the  floor,  a  fugitive 
might  be  let  down  by  ropes  to  the  level  of  the  outer 
OTound  or  moat. 

What  intense  excitement  tliev  must  have  had  in 
those  "good"  old  days  I  (Jur  little  squabbles  are  tame 
to  theirs.  We  oo  into  our  council-chambers  secure  from 
bodilv  harm,  fearing  only  the  depression  caused  by  the 
dreary  drip  of  oft-repeated  declaration.  The  mischief- 
monger  who  for  hatred  or  malice,  or,  it  may  be,  for  mere 
desire  for  notoriety,  seeks  to  rob  us  of  our  good  name  or 
of  life  itself,  for  "you  take  my  life  when  you  do  take  the 
means  whereby  I  live,"  changes  the  dagger  of  the  assassin 
for  the  envenomed  letter  in  an  luiscrupulous  press. 

This  fine  old  house  has  many  mysterious  or  sus- 
picious bits  that  are  interesting.  Recesses  and  cup- 
boards innumerable,  seventeen  stairways,  it  is  said,  and 
two  hundred  and  seventy-five  glazed  windows.  There 
are  long,  dark  passages  where  the  boards  of  the  floor 
could  be  removed  so  that  the  unwary  miglit  tumble 
down  and  break  their  own  neck  without  any  one  being 


^>.S^;i|S 


232       PlLGPvIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

to  blame.  Very  daiio-eroTis  places  ibr  friend  or  foe.  A 
long  range  of  rooms  in  tbe  roof  is  called  the  barracks, 
for  troops  were  hidden  here  and  fed  by  Lady  Compton 
when  men  were  mnstering  for  the  Civil  War.  On  the 
gronnd  floor  is  a  chapel  with  fine  old  carved  oak,  wliite- 
washed  oak  and  panelled  drawing-room  for  a  gallery. 
Higher  up  is  another  chapel.  A  nice  arrangement, 
so  that  the  one  for  tlie  faith  that  ^vas  fashionable 
at  the  time  could  be  used  and  the  other  closed  ;  or 
that  warlike  (Jhristians  of  difterent  creeds  might  avoid 
quarrelling  by  worshipping  one  above  another. 

We  were  rather  hurried  over  these  chapels  and 
drawing-rooms  and  hiding-holes  all  mixed  up  in  bewilder- 
ing confusion.  It  is  said  that  bricked-up  skeletons  have 
been  found  and  spirits  come  again.  Well-^^'orn  tales 
for  curates  to  tell  at  Christmas-tide.  There  is  no  need 
of  them  here.  As  the  sun  of  a  o-lorious  summer  shines 
into  theKe  hidden  holes  we  cannot  help  seeing  what 
terrible  troubles  we  have  escaped.  Tlie  bitter  feuds,  the 
deadly  hate,  the  scheming  brains  that  caused  these  cun- 
ningly devised  chambers,  these  secret  stairs,  labyrinths 
of  dark  j)assages,  holes  for  stowaways,  have  gone  the 
way  of  all  the  eartli,  but  tlie  old  home  has  not  yet  gone. 
The  rol)ber  hawk  may  l)uild  its  nest  in  safety,  or  the 
cunning  fox  burrow  with  more  exits  than  one,  but  some 
day  strangers  come  to  poke  and  ])ry  about  their  habi- 
tations and  to  wonder  at  them.  Here  the  towers  and 
gables  of  this  once-fortified  hall  stand  erect,  more 
beautiful  than  ever  now  they  are  toned  by  lichen,  moss, 
and  time  ;  and  more  interesting  from  the  fratricidal 
strife  of  our  fathers  that  once  bespattered  them  with 
blood  and  left  its  marks  of  ruin  on  creeper-clad  walls 
and  bullet-battered  door,  but  has  long  since  ceased — 
ceased  for  ever,  let  us  hope. 

All    these    moralisino-s    on     other    times    and    other 

o 

manners  do  not  affect  the  cares  that  so  constantly  beset 
us  in  our  little  wanderings.      Though  we  have  not  this 


234       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD    HOMES 

day  to  catch  another  train,  we  have  to  find  lodgings 
for  the  night ;  and  where,  oh  where  can  we  have  some 
tea  ?  This  craving  for  tea  becomes  intense.  There  is 
not  a  pubhc-house  for  miles,  and  when  we  come  to 
one  we  are  told  they  only  sell  beer.  X  asks  if  I  ate 
all  the  Banbury  cakes,  and  chuckles  as  he  says,  "  You 
may  w^ell  want  your  tea."  If  there  had  been  any 
cakes  left,  he  might  have  been  tempted  and  fallen. 
Somehow  we  struggle  on  to  Shipston-on-Stour,  and 
have  a  very  pleasant  ride  on  a  good  road  towards 
Stratford  on -Avon.  We  had  tried  to  plan  a  route  by 
the  fimous  battlefield  where  England's  king  first  met 
his  English  subjects  in  fair  fight.  Edgehill  is  only 
about  six  miles  from  Compton  Winyates,  but  it  w^as 
further  round,  and  Ave  went  wrong  at  some  of  the 
confusing  corners  in  twisting  lanes. 

About  midAA'ay  between  Shipston  and  Stratford  I 
noticed  a  finger-post  pointing  to  the  left  and  marked 
Armscott.  The  name  reminded  me  that  at  the  manor- 
house  there  George  Fox,  the  Quaker,  was  arrested,  and 
the  house  still  stands  with  its  orio^inal  hidino^-hole. 
We  hesitated  to  leave  our  good  highroad  and  go  down 
a  country  lane,  for  it  was  after  eight  o'clock  and  the 
light  was  fading ;  so  we  kept  steadily  moving  on  for 
Shakspere's  town,  and  gained  it  as  darkness  settled 
over  all. 

After  supper  we  strolled  about,  and  in  the  church- 
yard a  little  owl  chattered  at  us  continually.  I  threw 
my  cap  up  towards  it,  but  it  only  chattered  and  gruml)led, 
flying  from  one  perch  to  another.  It  looked  less  and 
different  from  "  The  moping  owl  that  to  the  moon 
complains,"  and  might  Ije  the  bird  known  as  "  The 
little  owl."  It  might  well  scold.  Where  the  river 
placidly  glides  past  that  world-famous  church  in  tlie 
ghostly  moonlight,  X  actually  wanted  to  smoke.  It 
seemed  such  a  desecration.  I  told  him  it  was  time 
honest  folk  were  abed. 


BADDESLEY  CLINTON 


SHAKSPERE"S  town  is  so  well  known  all  over 
the  earth  that  it  seems  to  me  superfluous  to 
notice  it  here.  We  took  one  photograph  of  the 
house  where  we  had  slept,  as  the  timbers  in  the 
bedrooms  seemed  old  enough  and  strong  enough  to 
have  been  there  when  the  great  man  was  walking  in 
his  native  town,  and  that  is  more  than  can  be  said  of 
the  ugly  brick  cottages  near  to  the  birthplace  which 
have  lately  caused  some  warm  discussions. 

Our  pilgrimage  to-day  is  to  Baddesley  Clinton,  a 
secluded,  lonelv  place  some  six  miles  north  of  Stratford- 
on-Avon.  In  its  parish,  in  i  389,  Adam  Shakspere  held 
lands  hv  military  service  and  left  a  son  John.  This  is 
probaljly  an  ancestor  of  the  poet  and  the  earliest  re- 
cord of  the  name.  It  has  been  surmised  that  Baddes- 
ley Clinton  was  the  moated  grange  in  "  Measure  for 
Measure,"  where  Mariana's  song  of  "  Take,  oh  take  those 
lips  away "  was  interrupted  by  the  friar  and  Isabella. 
Isabella  Shakspere  died  in  1504,  the  prioress  of  Wrox- 
hall,  that  being  the  adjoining  parish. 

We  roll  along  a  good  road  in  pleasant  country, 
A  finger-post  points  to  the  left  to  Snitterfield  where 
Richard  Shakspere,  the  poet's  grandfather,  was  a  farmer, 
and  soon  we  come  to  Warwick,  a  town  o'errun  with 
tourists.  The  Leycester  Hospital  is  a  quaint  survival 
of  manv  ages  with  memorials  of  many  famous  folk, 
probably  all  known  to  the  reader.  At  the  stately 
castle  we   try   to   take   photogra})hs   free   from   modern 

crowds,   but  time  witli   us   is   pressing.      By  the  cedars 

236 


WARWICK 


THE    LEYCESTER    HOSPITAL 


WARWICK    CASTLE 


240       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD   HOMES 

oil  tlie  la\vn  we  wait,  and  the  cries  of  a  hen  and 
chickens  in  distress — a  well-known  cry  to  me — show  a 
bantam  hen  and  her  tiny  brood  being  pecked  to  death 
by  the  mischievous  pea-fowl.  Their  cruel  nature 
teaches  them  to  kill  any  hapless  chicken,  and  though 
I  drove  them  away,  they  would  soon  return  to  the 
torture.  As  personally  conducted  tourists  we  are 
shown  into  the  ooro-eous  rooms  of  Warwick  Castle,  and 
thev  would  have  been  interesting  if  we  could  have  seen 
them  in  peace  ;  but  the  remarks  of  the  guide  and  the 
e'uided  irritated  our  nerves — all  around  there  twanged 
the  American  accent.  We  wearied  of  the  grandeur, 
and  through  a  side-door  fled  before  the  half  was  shown 
to  us. 

Then  I  bought  two  pounds  of  strawberries  and  asked 
the  way  to  Baddesley  Clinton.  X  was  anxious  about 
me  and  the  strawberries,  for  he  said  they  would  make 
any  one  ill,  and  could  not  possibly  be  carried,  even  if  I 
kept  upright.  But  soon  we  sat  on  a  bank  in  a  country 
lane,  and  as  he  timidly  tried  the  fruit,  it  went  with 
his  words,  and  fear  lied  before  enjoyment. 

After  manv  inquiries  we  found  ourselves  in  narrow 
lanes  and  fields  approacliing  the  farmstead  of  a  hall 
and  park  that  apparently  we  had  gone  round  without 
seeinc.  Certainly  there  was  nothing  to  show  that 
here,  hidden  away  from  all  prying  eyes,  was  one  of 
the  most  fascinating  homes  we  had  yet  found. 

A  stone  building  of  many  ages  rises  straiglit  up 
from  the  waters  of  a  square  moat.  Beyond  the  bridge 
to  it  there  is  a  massive  door  that  was  made  in  1459, 
the  house  having  been  attacked  a  few  years  previous. 
The  bill  for  this  door  is  still  in  the  house — fivepence  a 
dav  having  been  paid  to  William  Collett  for  working 
at  it,  and  elevenpence  for  "  spykyngs  "  for  it.  The  stone 
j)ortal  shows  wliere  the  drawbridge  ^^■ent  and  where 
the  porter  stood  to  work  it.  Beyond  is  a  courtyard, 
now    a    jj-arden,    where    the    arms    of   Ferrers    are    em- 


BADDESLEV    CLINTON'.    FROM    THE    PAIIK 


242       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD    HOMES 

bLizoned  in  flower-beds,  and  the  veronica,  tlie  rose, 
and  the  jessamine  lionrish.  This  little  court  or  garden 
Avas  probably  bounded  by  open  galleries  at  some  former 
time,  but  there  are  none  now,  and  on  one  side  of  it  is 
tlie  moat. 

We  produce  a  letter  of  introduction,  and  are  wel- 
comed by  one  who,  in  the  black  cowled  habit  of  the 
Benedictines,  looks  like  a  living  survival  from  the  ages 
that  are  gone  and  from  the  old  homes  whose  pictur- 
esque ruins  we  wander  up  and  down  to  see.  We  are 
shown  all  over  the  house — from  turret  to  dungeon,  from 
chapel  to  kitchen.  It  has  evidently  been  a  cherished 
home  for  centuries. 

Inside  the  stone  walls,  and  somewhere  about  the 
level  of  the  water  in  the  moat,  a  passage  runs  all  round 
the  house.  Narrow  slits,  through  which  arrows  could 
be  shot,  are  the  only  openings  for  light  and  air.  At  the 
corner  of  the  house  furthest  from  the  drawbridge  (or 
modern  entrance)  there  is  a  small  door  that  opens  only 
from  the  inside  and  directly  on  to  the  water.  A  long 
plank  lies  ready  in  the  passage  adjoining,  which  can  be 
pushed  through  the  trap-door  across  the  moat  to  form  a 
brid^re  for  a  fumtive.  On  other  floors  of  the  house  are 
secret  chambers,  hidden  stairs,  or  ropes  and  pulleys,  all 
skilfully  planned  for  concealment,  defence,  or  escape. 
One  hiding-hole,  where  the  bolts  are  inside  the  door 
and  the  floor  is  false,  is  now  used  as  a  closet  for  pickles 
and  preserves,  and  it  must  be  more  satisfactory  to  all 
parties  to  have  them  than  to  keep  some  poor  priest 
preserved,  or  perhaps  in  pickle. 

The  more  modern  parts  of  the  house — a  mantelpiece 
being  dated  1634 — are  quite  as  interesting  and  certainly 
more  comfortable.  They  are  crammed  with  the  finest 
old  furniture,  carvings,  paintings,  tapestry,  china,  books, 
&c.  A  very  uncommon  and  beautiful  feature  is  the 
stained  glass  in  the  windows.  Some  of  it  shows  the 
names  as  well  as  the  arms  of  family  alliances,  and  is 


■O^^fcK 


BRIDGE   AND   GATEHOUSE 


Q   2 


246       PILGlllMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

of  sixteenth-century  date.  A  knowledge  of  the  long 
and  romantic  history  of  the  Ferrers  family  is  necessary 
to  appreciate  the  numerous  emblazoned  shields  that 
illuminate  this  old  home,  where  in  the  last  four  hundred 
years  thirteen  generations  have  lived  and  died. 


A    WINDOW    IX    THE    HALL 

Tile  staineJ  glass  shows  six  shields  of  arms  and  insciiiilions  below  them.  They  are 
probably  aljoiit  two  hundred  years  old.  On  the  fifth  shield,  Ferrers,  Earl  of  Derby, 
adopts  the  arms  of  Peverel  (his  mother),  and  impales  his  wife's,  who  was  heiress  of 
Hugli  Keveliok  and  Randle  lllnndeville,  by  whom  he  obtained  Chartley  and  all  the 
land  between  the  J!ibl)le  and  the  .Mei-sey. 


Ferrers  is  one  of  the  few  names  that  has  undoubtedly 
survived  from  the  time  of  the  Normans.  The  first  of 
the  name  would  ])robably  be  the  Farrier  of  the  Norman 
invaders,  and  the  first  cognizance  adopted  by  his  de- 
scendants was  the  well-known  horse-shoe.  After  the 
Battle  of  the  Standard,  in  i  i  39,  Stephen  the  King  made 
Robert  Ferrers  Earl  of  Derby.  Tamworth  and  Tut- 
bury,  with  miles  of  wild  forest  countrv.  were  parts  of  the 


TUK    FIREPLACE    IK    THE   HALL 

Seven  shields  of  arms  commemorate  many  family  alliances. 


THE   EXPIATION  249 

estates.  Chartley  and  all  the  lands  between  Kibble 
and  Mersey  came  to  the  wife  of  the  fourth  Earl  on  the 
death  of  Randle  Blondeville  ;  but  Fortune  played  her 
usual  pranks,  and  the  earldom  of  Derby  went  from  the 
Ferrers  family.  The  barony  of  Groby  also  passed  from 
them,  and  in  our  day  Chartley  has  been  sold  by  auction. 
It  is  a  long  and  chequered  history.  Here  it  must  suffice 
to  say  that  tenth  in  male  descent  from  the  first  Earl  of 
Derby  was  the  last  Lord  Ferrers  of  Groby,  whose  great- 
grandson.  Sir  Edward  Ferrers  (about  15  i  5),  married  Con- 
stance Brome,  and  with  her  got  Baddesley  Clinton. 

A  branch  of  the  numerous  Clinton  family  had  owned 
the  old  English  manor  of  Baddesley  from  about  1250 
to  1350,  and  their  name  clung  to  the  place.  Through 
others  it  passed  to  John  Brome,  an  ardent  Lancastrian, 
w^ho,  in  1468,  was  stabbed  in  the  porch  of  the  Church 
of  the  Whitefriars,  London,  by  Herthill,  the  steward  of 
Richard  Neville,  Earl  of  Warwick.  His  son  Thomas 
saw  him  "runne  through  and  laughed  att  itt,"  but 
Nicholas,  the  second  son,  bided  his  time  for  three  years 
and  then  slew  Herthill. 

Nicholas  must  have  been  a  man  of  strong  passions 
and  unbridled  revenge,  for  in  after  years  he  "  slew  y^ 
minister  of  Baddesley  church,  findinge  him  in  his  parlor 
chockinge  his  wife  under  y''  chinne,  and  to  expiatt  these 
bloody  crimes  he  builte  y^  steeple  and  raysed  y"^  church 
ten  foote  hyher.  ...  I  have  seene  y^  Kinge's  pardon  for 
itt  and  y*"  Pope's  pardon  and  his  penaunce  there  in- 
joined  him.  .  .  . '  This  original  document  of  pardon  dated 
7  Mav  1496  "for  all  crimes  .  .  .  before  1485''  is  still 
at  Baddeslev  with  the  Great  Seal  of  England  attached. 

Stranofe  are  the  wavs  of  Justice.  The  man  who  is 
wronged  is  punished,  and  the  wealthy  Church  benefits. 
But  there  is  more  wisdom  in  this  judgment  than  would 
appear  at  first  sight.  After  four  hundred  years,  the 
name  of  Nicholas  Brome  is  still  on  this  church  of  his 
expiation  and  on  one  of  the  bells  he  gave  to  it,  and 


THP]   FEKREIIS   FAMILY 


-Do 


there  are  in  our  country  many  congregations  who  would 
be  glad  to  have  a  new  parson  and  a  better  church  that 
cost  them  nothing. 

For  many  ^particulars  here  recorded  I  am  indebted 
to  what  was  told  us  in  the  house  and  to  a  history  of 
Baddesley  Clinton  by  Father  Norris  of  Tamworth. 
The  Ferrers  family  have  always  clung  to  their  old  faith 
with  a  tenacity  as  great  as  their  love  for  their  old  home. 
They  have  suffered  and  survived  the  long  years  of  per- 
secutions, fines,  and  cruelties.  Here  are  a  few  extracts 
from  the  diary  of  Henry,  who  lived  in  the  house  for  more 
than  eighty  years.  On  one  Friday  he  dined  with  Sir 
William  on  "  tw^o  carpes,"  which  he  may  have  caught 
in  the  moat  as  he  sat  in  his  arm-chair  in  his  parlour. 
They  were  "  boyled  in  water  and  sault  and  layd  in 
hotter  v/ithout  cheese  or  anythinges  els.'  On  another 
Friday  he  had  "butter  basted  turneipes  and  a  rosted 
eo;  and  did  eate  brown  bread  and  drink  water."  Another 
time  he  had  herrings  and  apples,  so  he  might  well  live 
to  the  age  of  eighty-four  in  spite  of  his  troubles. 

In  1643  the  troops  of  the  Parliament  took  out  of 
his  stables  a  bright  bay  gelding  that  cost  ten  pounds, 
and  a  grey-coloured  mare.  They  also  plundered  the 
hall  and  took  all  the  arms,  cash,  a  Geneva  Bible  valued 
at  eight  shillings,  and  a  new  pair  of  black  spurres,  &c. 
"  Two  yoke  of  very  large  oxen  att  xi£  per  yoake  and 
eight  melch  kine  at  iij.£,  vj.s,  viij.d.  y*"  cow."  Troops 
were  quartered  on  him  many  times  for  days  together, 
payments  promised  but  never  made,  and  ten  pounds  a 
month  paid  as  fines  for  years. 

How  strangely  sounds  the  name  of  Marniion  linked 
with  that  of  Ferrers  !  Marmion  conjures  up  visions  of 
the  whirlwind  charge  and  the  war-cries  of  Flodden,  or 
the  passionate  bearding  of  "  the  lion  in  his  den,  the 
Douglas  in  his  hall."  In  his  day  this  hall  stood  safe 
within  its  moat  with  drawbrido^e  to  lower  for  friend  or 
raise  for  foe,  and  a  Ferrers  w^as  coming  to  be  its  lord. 


i      ■   , 
1 

i..    .      *  ' 

r   ■  4 

''^< 

y  _ 

m' 

yv 

"  '''■■■     '    A^- 



^ 

/f^ 

-"v         CS  ^    o 


„     ,»~.  3 


-    ^  IJ  .^ 


A    COKNKR    OF    THE    DKAWING-ROOM 


The  stained  glass  is  insciilted  with  the  names  of  Edward  Ferrers  and  Briget 
AVindesore,  and  the  shield  displays  the  impaled  arms  of  Ferrers  and  Windsor.  This 
Edward  was  the  grandson  of  the  sir  Edward  whf>  acquired  Baddesley  Clinton  jure 
uxoris.  Lord  Windsor  had  bought  this  Edward's  wardship  for  ;£2oo  when  he  was  a 
minor  and  married  him  to  his  daughter  Bridget.    He  was  the  father  of  Henry. 


256       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

In  our  day  Marmion  Ferrers  of  unbroken  male  descent 
was  here,  heir  male  of  the  House  of  Ferrers,  barons  of 
Chartley,  lords  of  Tamworth  and  other  places. 

To  study  the  antiquities  and  learn  the  history  of  this 
unique  old  home  of  Baddesley  Olinton  would  take  weeks, 
not  hours  only  ;  and  as  our  minutes  are  swiftly  flying,  let 
us  note  the  passing  scene  as  we  rest  and  are  thankful. 

A  low,  old-fashioned  room  where  the  dim  religious 
light  is  brilliantly  streaked  with  colour,  azure,  vert,  and 
or,  where  the  sun's  ravs  shine  throucrh  the  emblazoned 
shields  of  generations  of  the  family  of  Ferrers.  The 
silver  horse-shoes  on  the  sable  field  pale  before  the  blood 
red  and  the  rich  gold  of  later  years.  The  oaken  panelled 
walls  are  almost  hidden  bv  the  works  of  art  that  liaiiof 
around.  The  chairs  of  Chippendale  look  modern  to  the 
fashion  of  Queen  Anne  and  the  still  older  seats  of  plain 
hard  oak.  Priceless  old  square-marked  Worcester  china, 
tapestry,  paintings,  antique  books  abound.  The  drowsy 
air  of  a  summer  afternoon  is  redolent  with  roses.  The 
waters  of  the  moat  are  lapping  on  the  walls  below  the 
open  windows.  At  times  we  hear  the  splash  of  a  rising 
fish  or  the  gentle  quacking  of  ducklings  as  they  chase 
the  flies  upon  the  water.  The  twittering  swallows  dart 
around  for  their  prey,  and  the  swans  add  their  harsh 
croak.  Three  men  are  at  the  table,  talking  over  tea. 
The  host  is  a  Benedictine  Dom  in  the  cowled  black  habit 
of  his  order.  He  is  versed  in  the  learning  of  Oxford 
and  the  Church,  with  a  fair  knowledge  of  the  outer 
world.  Another  is  a  Puritan  in  knickerbockers,  a 
Passive  Pesister,  who  is  willing  to  suffer  for  conscience' 
sake,  but  whose  little  trials  fade  into  utter  nothingness 
before  the  fiery  persecutions  sufiered  by  those  whose 
faith  he  fears  ;  persecutions  to  which  the  secret  chambers 
and  the  walls  of  this  old  home  bear  silent  testimony. 
Extremes  have  now  met,  and  it  seems  there  is  very 
little  to  quarrel  about.  A  fellow-feeling  makes  us 
wondrous  kind. 


o 

o 

2; 

ii 

-!-:» 

25 

9 

n 

y. 

<u 

w 

f; 

^ 

M 

o 

^ 

3J 

O) 

S  2 


R 


258       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

The  third  man  is  merely  a  nondescri})t  mentally 
taking  notes  ;  but  there  is  a  fourth  Avho  should  be  men- 
tioned, for  in  quaint  epauletted  livery  of  black  is  a 
butler  whose  mien  is  that  of  a  family  servant — not  one 
that  is  bought  with  mere  wages,  but  a  survival  irom  the 
times  when  servants  were  serfs  or  chattels,  bred  and 
reared  on,  and  part  of,  the  estate.  In  thorough  harmony 
with  the  place  is  the  Lady  of  the  Manor,  a  handsome, 
courteous  elderly  lady  whose  time  is  spent  in  works  of 
charity,  and  who  comes  to  say  a  few  words  of  welcome 
not  only  for  this  day  but  also  for  another. 

The  discussion  on  religious  persecution  turns  to  the 
martyrdom  of  Father  Ambrose,  alias  Edw^ard  Barlow, 
an  account  of  whose  life  another  Benedictine  intends 
to  write.  As  these  words  are  being  written  in  the  Old 
Parsonage,  Didsbury,  there  comes  a  faint  sound  of 
chanting  from  the  church  where  Barlow  was  baptized 
three  hundred  and  twenty  years  ago,  and  the  irrepres- 
sible thought  comes  surging  up  :  What  was  Didsbury 
like  then,  and  what  will  it  be  when  as  many  years 
have  again  passed  over  it  '. 

How  swiftly  time  flies  is  often  brouo-ht  home  to  us. 

o 

In  our  happy  hour  it  seemed  to  me  the  grossest  pro- 
fanity to  utter  the  horrid  words,  "Birmingham  train"; 
but  it  must  be  done,  even  if  the  delicious  spell  were 
broken  and  our  time  of  trial  come.  I  almost  feared 
that  at  the  words  the  solid  priest  would  vanish  through 
the  oaken  panelling  into  the  secret  chambers  that  he 
knew  so  well ;  that  the  water  of  the  moat  would  hiss 
and  dry  away  ;  and  the  scent  of  the  roses  change  into 
the  stench  of  the  filthy  streets  of  Birmingham,  where, 
with  clang  and  clatter,  engines,  belching  forth  black 
smoke,  draw  hideous  cars  along  pi'ojecting  tram-lines. 
Stinking  mud,  some  inches  deep  in  places,  hides  these 
dangerous  ruts  and  lines,  and  lucky  was  I  to  tumble  in 
it  only  once  ;  but  desperately  we  struggled  through  the 
grimy  horrors,  glad  to  find  th(^  comparative  comfort  of  a 


^       a; 


26o       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD   HOMES 

train,  X  bought  evening  papers  and  soon  passed  one 
to  me,  saying,  "  There  was  nothing  in  it."  I  promptly 
threw  it  through  the  open  windo^^•,  asking  him  if  he  had 
so  soon  foro'otten  the  first  hue  of  that  motto  over  the 
portal  of  tlie  chapel  in  the  home  we  had  just  left  : 

"  Transit  Gloria  Muxdi." 


A    CORNER    OF    THE    II ALL 

The  stiiiiied  glass  is  inscrilifil  with  tlie  iiaiiies  ami  dates  and  shields  nf  impaled 
amis  of : 

"Walter  Giffaid— Philip  Whyte.     Anno  Donii  1588. 
Thomas  Scvdamnr — Agnes  Whyte.     Anno  Donii  1585." 

The  three  sisters  and  co-heirs,  Jane,  Philippa,  and  Agnes  Whyte  or  White  married 
Henry  Ferrers  of  Baddesley  Clinton,  Walter  Gitfard  of  Chillington,  and  Thomas 
Scudaniore  of  a  Herefordshire  family. 


THE   HOUSE   OF  THE   SKULL 
WARDLEY   HALL 

DURING  our  conversation  with  the  Benedictine 
Doni  at  Baddesley  Clinton  we  had  promised  to 
send  him  a  photograpli  of  the  skull  of  Father 
Ambrose  if  we  could  get  the  requisite  per- 
mission, and  I  said,  at  the  same  time,  there  would  Ije 
less  doubt  about  the  permission  than  about  our  ability 
to  obtain  a  good  photograph  ;  for  I  knew  the  skull  was 
kept  in  a  hole  in  the  wall  on  the  staircase,  with  lixed 
glass  in  front  of  it.  There  was  very  great  difficulty  in 
focussing,  for  with  all  our  best  spectacles  on  there  was 
little  or  nothino-  to  see  in  the  camera  but  the  reflection 

o 

of  the  light  from  oif  the  glass.  X  prepared  me  for  the 
worst  and  then  brought  out  a  good  photograph,  as  he 
has  often  done  before  and  since. 

This  is  the  onlv  pilgrimage  we  have  ever  made 
without  our  bicycles  ;  but  as  we  were  going  through  a 
squalid  suburb  of  the  citv,  it  was  more  prudent  to  leave 
them  l)ehiiid.  The  reader  shall  not  be  trouljled  with 
any  description  of  the  miserable  grimy  streets  of  Sal- 
ford.  In  a  few  miles  we  came  to  higher  ground,  with 
fewer  houses,  but  the  people  were  no  cleaner.  A  badly 
worn  paved  road  led  through  a  blackened  land  dotted 
with  coal-pits,  or  mills,  overhung  with  a  dull  pall  of 
smoke,  through  which  the  shrieking  engines  and  the 
clanging  trams  rushed  on  their  hideous  way.  It  was  no 
use  trvino-  to  think  that  this  wretchedness  and  wealth 
were  synonymous.  The  abomination  of  desolation 
brooded  over  all,   but   an   end   came   to   our   depression 


262       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

when  we  turned  a  corner  and  suddenly  found  ourselves 
before  a  bit  from  another  century,  or  another  country, 
standing-  alone  as  if  it  were  forgotten  and  forlorn. 

In  a  secluded  nook  in  the  bare  low  hills,  partly 
hidden  l)y  trees  that  are  struggling  for  life  and  en- 
vironed by  the  water  of  a  moat  on  which  wild  ducks 


THE   SKULL   OP    EDWAKD    BARLOW 

(F.VTHKR  Ambrose,  O.S.B.) 


are  tamely  resting,  trying  to  uphold  the  air  of  sport 
and  respectable  antiquity  stands  Wardley  Hall,  the 
house  of  the  skull.  Like  all  the  old  houses  it  has  been 
built  and  rebuilt  at  many  times  and  on  the  ruins  of 
many  that  have  gone  before  it.  Wherever  there  was 
an  island,  or  a  peninsula  that  could  be  made  into  an 
island,  and  on  which  a  dwelling  could  be  l)uilt,  there  our 
earliest    forefathers    would    be    certain    to    make    their 


WARDLEY    HALL  26 


o 


home.  Because  that  liome  was  so  safe,  not  only  in  the 
petty  wars  that  went  on  all  down  the  long  ages,  but 
in  times  of  peace  when  any  dark  winter's  night  might 
bring  some  dangerous  guests.  With  drawbridge  pulled 
up  the  outer  world  was  shut  away,  and  within  the  last 
century  there  was  no  access  to  Wardley  Hall  but  by  a 
bridge  that  ended  at  a  door.  The  drawing  made  by 
N.  G.  Philips  in  1822  shows  the  gatehouse  as  a  timber- 
framed  building  with  high-pitched  roof,  having  other 
buildings  of  various  dates  and  styles  on  either  side  of 
it  that  rise  from  the  edge  of  the  water.  There  was  more 
black-and-white  work  when  I  first  saw  it  than  there 
is  now ;  for,  like  many  of  the  old  manor-houses,  it 
had  decayed  into  being  a  farmhouse  with  laljourers' 
cottages,  but  now  all  has  been  restored  and  reconverted 
into  a  gentleman's  residence. 

There  were  three  generations  of  the  Downes  family 
who  lived  at  Wardley,  and  as  all  the  histories,  true 
and  untrue,  connect  them  with  the  skull,  I  will  try  to 
disentangle  and  make  plain  the  facts.  From  their  con- 
versions and  perversions  the  family  seem  to  have  been 
rather  eccentric.  The  first  Roger  married,  twice,  Catholic 
wives,  and  embraced  their  relisfion.  The  second  Rop-er 
died  young.  The  third  was  brought  up  in  the  English 
Church,  but  was  no  credit  to  it.  His  mother  was  a 
daughter  of  Sir  Cecil  Trafford  of  Traftbrd,  who  was  a 
Protestant.  Sir  Cecil  argued  so  much  about  religion 
with  the  first  Roger  that  he  himself  'verted  to  Romanism; 
that  is,  instead  of  "  mn  converting  um,  um  converted 
um."  In  mv  vomio^er  davs  we  v.-ere  delighted  with  the 
arithmetic  and  altrebra  of  Colenso.  Then  we  heard  the 
great  man  was  made  a  bishop  and  had  gone  to  con- 
vert the  heathen.  The  next  tale  was  that  he  applied 
his  arithmetic  to  the  measurements  of  Noah's  ark  ;  found 
that  all  the  animals  from  the  elephant  to  the  kangaroo 
could  not  possibly  be  got  into  it ;  and  finally  the  Kafiirs 
converted  him.     Great  are  the  powers  of  arithmetic  ! 


266       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

The  histories  generally  say  the  skull  at  Wardley  is 
that  of  Roger  Downes,  alluding  to  the  third  of  the  name. 
He  was  the  son  of  John  Downes  and  Penelope  Traflford, 
his  father  dying  when  he  was  very  young.  As  he  grew 
to  manhood  he  became  what  was  then  termed  a  rake  or 
roysterer.  It  is  said  tlie  name  "  rake  "  was  given  to  those 
who,  if  they  saw  the  reflection  of  tlie  moon  in  water, 
Would  rake  for  it,  or  for  anything  else.  He  was  in  a 
drunken  brawl  at  Epsom  Wells  and  was  killed  at  the  age 
of  twentv-eight.  With  some  friends  he  was  having  what 
is  now  called  a  "lark"  or  "spree."  They  were  tossing 
some  fiddlers  in  a  blanket  for  not  fiddling  as  they  were 
ordered.  Then  they  broke  the  constable's  head.  "  Y^ 
constable  cried  out  murther  and  one  of  y''  watch  came 
behind  Mr.  Downs  and  with  a  spittle  staft'  cleft  his  scull. 
Y*"  Lord  Rochester  and  y"  rest  ran  away  and  Mr.  Downs 
having  noe  sword  snatched  up  a  sticke  and  strikinge 
at  them  they  run  him  into  y*^  side  with  a  half  })ike  and 
soe  bruised  liis  arme  y^  he  wase  never  able  to  stir 
it  after."  It  could  not  matter  much  about  bruising  his 
arm  if  his  skull  was  cleft  and  he  had  a  half  pike  in  his 
side.  They  brought  him  Ijome  and  buried  him  at  Wigan, 
doubtless  with  all  solemn  pomp  and  in  the  full  odour  of 
sanctity.  His  head  was  said  to  be  kept  at  Wardley. 
Then,  in  after  years,  there  were  doubts  about  this  head. 
Other  lords  or  squires  came  into  possession  of  the  estate 
and  did  not  want  to  have  an  old  skull  knocking  about. 
But  they  had  to  kee})  it.  They  opened  Roger's  grave  to 
make  sure  about  him,  and  found  his  head  was  fast  to  his 
skeleton  all  right,  excepting  a  bit  that  had  evidently 
been  chipjied  off  the  top.  Whose,  then,  was  the  famous 
skull  ?  If  anything  was  done  to  it,  or  it  was  not  treated 
with  proper  respect,  such  commotions  arose  about  the 
house  that  no  one  dare  live  in  it.  Windows  were  blown 
in,  cattle  pined  in  the  stall,  and  the  things  were  be- 
witched. A  friend  of  mine,  who  was  shooting  by  the 
side  of  the  moat,  saw  a  rabbit  lise  up  from  below^  the 


268       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

water,  swim  across,  and  disappear,  he  being  too  scared 
to  shoot.  It  miofht  have  been  a  hare  or  a  cat,  as  those 
uncanny  beasts  were  always  connected  with  witchcraft, 
and  there  was  only  its  head  to  see.  If  that  had  been 
shot  the  skull  would  have  been  injured.  Some  reckless 
scapegrace  once  tlu'ew  the  skull  into  tlie  moat  to  be 
rid  of  it.  Init  all  the  water  had  to  be  drained  off  and  the 
treasure  restored,  while  countless  troubles  haunted  him. 
There  is  plenty  of  testimony  to  the  ill  luck  that  has 
happened  when  the  skull  has  been  disturbed  ;  and  this  has 
not  come  from  the  superstitious  only,  l)ut  from  shrewd, 
observant  men  of  business,  whose  word  is  as  good  as 
their  bond,  and  whose  truthfulness  is  fully  equal  to,  or 
rather  better  than,  that  of  the  average  man,  including 
lawyers  and  parsons. 

In  this  agfe  of  acrnosticism  it  is  as  well  to  record 
another  instance  in  this  neighbourhood  of  disturbance 
to  a  skull  bringing  ill  luck  to  all  around.  At  Tunsted, 
near  Chapel-en-le-Frith.  which  is  about  twenty  miles  east 
from  Didsbury,  there  is  a  similar  relic  which  was  so 
shocked  at  the  profanity  of  the  navvies  who  were  mak- 
ing a  line  of  railway  from  Whaleyl)ridge  to  Buxton, 
that  it  sunk  or  blasted  their  A^ork  as  fast  as  it  was 
done,  and  the  contractors  deviated  the  line  to  escape 
from  its  sphere  of  influence.  All  the  powers  of  steam 
and  science  were  mocked  by  the  refusal  of  the  navvies 
to  endure  the  ill  luck  and  to  work  under  the  ban  of 
"old  Dicky's"  skull.  This  also  is  in  my  lifetime  and 
neighbourhood. 

I  l)elieve  the  skull  at  Wardley  to  be  that  of  Edward 
Barlow,  of  whom  I  wrote  in  my  last  book,  page  384, 
and  now  refer  the  reader  to  the  chapter  on  Barlow  Hall. 
Although  it  is  only  three  years  since  that  was  written 
another  chano-e  has  come  :  the  district  has  amalo^amated 
with  the  neighbouring  city,  and  Barlow  Hall  is  now  in 
the  Didsbury  ward  of  the  city  of  Manchester. 

In   tlie   Didsbury  Church   registers   there    is  still   in 


270       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

existence   tlie   entry  or   record   of  the   baptism    on    the 
thirtieth  of  November 


y^no  J^Onvixr    7S?5". 


-£7'=^l^c^(/^/^_^/' j£^  ^  ,o 


O       ^ 


FACSIMILK    OF    EM'llY 


The  Barlows  of  Barlow  were  a  long-settled  family  who 
kept  to  their  old  faith  at  the  time  of  the  Beformation. 
On  the  sundial  and  on  the  chapel  window  of  the  present 
house  is  the  date  1574.  Ten  years  after  this  rebuilding 
the  house  was  searched  for  priests,  and  the  master,  who 
was  ill,  taken  to  prison  in  Manchester.  It  is  said  that 
he  'verted  his  custodian,  but  he  soon  died  and  was 
buried  within  a  few  yards  of  where  I  write.  He  was 
the  grandfather  of  Edward.  His  son  was  also  called 
Alexander,  and  became  a  kniglit.  He  had  been  married 
at  four  years  old  ;  renounced  that  child-wife,  and  married 
Mary,  the  daughter  of  Sir  Uryan  Brereton  of  Hon- 
ford,  now  called  Handf  )rth,  a  fine  old  black-and-white 
hall  five  miles  south  of  Didsbury,  an  account  of  which 
shall  be  given  in  another  chapter. 

Edward  Barlow  became  Father  Ambrose,  a  Bene- 
dictine, and  acted  as  a  priest  in  the  Iloman  Catholic 
Church  when  it  was  unlaw^ful  to  do  so  in  England. 
On  Easter  Day  1641,  as  he  was  preaching  at  Morleys 
Hall,  "  a  neighbouring  minister,"  probably  from  Eccles 
or  Leigh,  in  his  surj^lice  and  with  a  mob  arrested  him, 
ransacked  the  house  without  warrant,  and  sent  him 
with   armed   escort    to    Lancaster    Gaol  ;  that   is,    they 


o 


THE   MARTYRDOM  271 

left  their  own  devotions  to  stop  the  other  fellow's. 
"The  better  the  day  the  better  the  deed"  parsons  will 
tell  you  when  it  suits  them.  On  Easter  Day  1871  the 
bishop  was  to  preach  at  Didsbury,  and  I,  as  churchwarden, 
was  standing  by  the  church  door  before  service  when 
a  stranger  came  and  bought  a  sitting  of  game-fowl 
eggs,  for  which  he  paid  me  live  shillings.  I  told  the 
rector,  who  was  shocked  at  trading  on  the  Sabbath, 
but  thought  the  best  thing  to  do  was  to  put  the 
money  in  the  collection.  So  the  man  got  the  eggs ;  the 
Church  got  the  money,  and  I  got  absolution — all  at 
the  joyous  Eastertide. 

Barlow  was  tried  at  the  Assizes  for  being  a  Romish 
priest  when  the  king  had  commanded  all  priests  to 
depart  the  realm.  This  shifty  king,  or  Sacred 
Majesty,  wath  all  his  progeny,  had  to  rely  mainly  on 
the  Catholics  when  they  were  in  trouble.  Careless  and 
faithless,  their  turn  came.  The  judge  argued  with  the 
priest  and  told  him  of  his  power  ;  but  Barlow,  acknow- 
ledging himself  to  be  a  priest,  replied:  "If,  my  lord, 
in  consequence  of  so  unjust  a  law,  you  should  condemn 
me  to  die,  you  would  send  me  to  heaven  and  yourself 
to  hell."  It  vexes  lawyers  to  be  told  they  will  go  to 
hell,  for  there  are  doubts  about  there  being  such  a  place 
for  anybody.  Barlow  was  sentenced  to  be  hanged, 
drawn,  quartered,  and  boiled  in  tar.  How  the  neighbour- 
ing "ministers,"  strong  in  the  "odium  theologicum,"  would 
enjoy  the  spectacle !  They  followed  him,  as  he  was 
dragged  on  a  hurdle  to  the  gallows,  trying  to  'vert 
him,  and  doubtless  thanked  God  that  they  themselves 
were  of  sound  doctrine.  I  wonder  wdiether  they  wore 
their  surplices  for  the  ceremony. 

The  martyr's  head  would  be  impaled  on  high  where 
he  was  taken,  or  on  the  nearest  place  of  Christian 
worship.  Morleys  Hall  is  about  five  miles  from  Wardley, 
the  Tyldeslev  family  having  owned  both  places.  Francis 
Dowries,  son  of  the  first  Roger  and  uncle  to  the  third, 


2-2       PILGKIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

was    then    the    Lord    of   Wardley.      He    was    a    strong 
CathoHc,  and  is   believed  to  have  rescued  the  head  of 


STAIRCASE.    SHOWING    WHERE    THE   SKULL    IS    FIXED 


Barlow.  The  tale  of  it  being-  the  head  of  Roo-er  was 
proljably  spread  to  throw  the  relic-hunters  off  the 
scent.  8ir  Alexander,  the  brother  of  Edward  Barlow% 
appointed  "my  lovinge  cosen  Roger  Downes  of  Wardley 
esquier  A^ice  chaniberlaine  of  the  coujitie  pallatvne  of 
Chester  to  bee  overseer  "  of  his  will,  lioo-er  died  before 
either  of  the  Barlows  ;  but  they  were  evidently  related, 
and  the  relic  treasured  by  Roger's  heir.  The  \\onder  is. 
How  has  it  been  in-eserved  through  all  these  vears  of 
indifference  and  unbelief,  and  surrounded  hy  coal-})its  { 

There  are  more  skulls  in  our  old  halls  than  the 
ordinary  mortal  knows.  Englishmen  do  not  like  to 
parade  the  skeleton  in  the  cupboard.  Perhaps  tlie 
tirst  genuine  pilgrimage  I  ever  made  was  to  Townlev 
Hall    to    see    the   head   of   Colonel    Townley,   who   was 


SKULLS 


''-n 


executed  with  Captain  Fletciier  in  the  '45.  At  tirst, 
I  was  told,  it  was  not  there — they  knew  nothing  about 
it  :  Init  after  some  Httle  talk  the  butler  told  nie  it  was 


TOP   OF   THE   STAIRS 


under  the  altar  in  the  private  chapel,  and  I  carefully 
handled  and  examined  it.  The  teeth  were  perfect, 
excepting  the  two  front  ones,  thev  having  probably 
been  taken  to  wear  as  a  charm  ao-ainst  toothache 
by  some  philosopher. 

At  Browsholme  in  Bowland,  where  the  fainilv  of 
Parkers  have  dwelt  f>r  centuries,  there  is  an  ancient 
skull,  but  none  of  a  })arty  of  antiquaries  could  tell 
anything  about  it.  A  medical  man  thought  it  had 
been  a  woman's,  and  priests  were  present,  but  nothing- 
was  told  us.  A  notable  relic  in  the  house  is  the  stirrup 
or  doof  oauo-e  throuo-h  which  all  doo-s  in  the  Forest 
of  Bowland  had  to  pass. 

Here  are  a  few  thouo-hts  from  the  solitude  of  a 
dreamer  on  the  dreamless  head  of  Barlow.  AA  e  have 
most   of  us   heard   or   read   of  martyrs.      Many   of  the 

8 


274       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

tales  are  sadlv  lacking  in  realism  or  apparent  truth  ; 
but  when  a  case  occurs  among  our  own  people,  and  in 
our  own  neighbourhood,  it  certainly  does  come  home  to 
us.  A  short  walk  from  this  Old  Parsonage,  Didsbury, 
down  the  meadows  by  the  banks  of  the  river  Mersey, 
takes  one  to  Barlow  Hall,  where,  in  country  phrase, 
Edward  Barlow  was  bred,  born,  and  reared.  Booms  he 
lived  in  are  there  now.  Within  a  few  yards  of  wdiere 
this  is  written  he  was  baptized  and  the  kindred  of  the 
Barlows  lie  ;  the  family  had  given  priests  to  this  church 
of  Didsbury  centuries  before.  The  names  of  the  scenes 
and  of  the  actors  in  the  dark  trao-edy  are  familiar  to  us. 
There  are  to-day  men  of  the  name  and  lineage  of  Barlow 
of  Barlow  toiling  as  day  labourers  on  the  land  which 
bears  their  name  and  of  which  their  fathers  once  were 
lords.  In  our  public  life  to-day  we  meet  men  whom  we 
may  know  and  work  with  for  years  without  knowing  of 
what  sect  they  are  or  what  creed,  if  any,  they  profess. 
Education  or  indifference  increaseth  mutual  toleration. 
To  learn  how  "  these  Christians  love  one  another,"  go  to 
church  or  mix  in  the  affairs  of  the  CUiurch.  As  it  was 
in  the  beoinninp:  it  is  now.  At  the  oreat  festival  of  the 
Christian's  year,  Easter  (not  the  Passover),  Barlow  was 
arrested  without  warrant,  in  a  private  house,  by  a  mob 
headed  by  a  rival  priest  in  his  surplice.  A})parently 
this  rival  priest  wore  his  sacerdotal  vestment  to  show 
that  he  was  doing  the  work  of  the  Lord  on  His  Holy 
day  and  needed  not  the  sanction  or  help  of  the  law. 
They  brought  no  accusation  against  him,  excepting  the 
one  that  he  was  a  Bomish  priest — which  he  acknow- 
ledged. He  was  a  hard-working,  frugal  ascetic,  who 
would  not  look  at  a  woman  and  abstained  from  flesh  and 
winGj  for  he  said  "wane  and  women  make  the  wise 
apostatise."  If  he  had  done  endless  rapes  and  nuu'ders 
he  could  not  have  been  condemned  to  a  more  horrible 
death  than  the  priests  and  lawyers  forced  on  him. 
Milton's  "  two-handed  engine  "  had  to  smite  more  than 


IT   IS   FINISHED" 


275 


once  to  quarter  the  Ijody  before  it  was  tlirown  in  the 
boihng  tar.  A  fringe  of  dark  chestnut  hair  escaped  even 
that  until  recent  years. 

"  This  skull  had  a  tongue  in  it,  and  could  sing  once." 
Even  on  the  gallows  it  was  heard  in  the  '"  Miserere"  ere 
it  was  hushed  in  death. 

All  this  happened  in  our  little  corner  of  Merry 
England  two  hundred  and  sixty-four  years  ago.  The 
time  is  short,  l)ut  tlie  changes  are  many.  They  are 
many  even  in  my  time — what  will  they  be  in  another 
century  or  two  ? 


"The  bruib'd  helm  hung  up  for  monument  " 
A.  WAR-WORN    THANK-OFFERING   FROM    A   NEIGHBOURING   CHURCH 


WORCESTER 


OUR  autumnal  pilgrimage  this  year  was  to 
Worcester,  "The  Faithful  City"  of  the 
ivoyalists,  "the  crowning  mercy"  of  the 
Puritans.  liound  its  old  walls  are  battlefields 
of  Englishmen,  time-worn  homes,  names  familiar  to  all 
who  ever  read  our  literature  or  learn  our  history.  In 
its  neio'hbourhood  are  Evesham,  where  was  one  of  our 
earliest  fights  for  freedom  ;  Tewkesbury — if  any  one  has 
not  read  his  Shakspere  "  his  wit's  as  thick  as  Tewks- 
bury  mustard,"  or  as  tart  as  the  cider  they  gave  us  in 
the  coffee  tavern  there  ;  Huddington,  a  centre  of  the 
ever-famous  Gunpowder  Plot  ;  and  other  fine  old  homes 
we  saw,  and  many  more  there  are  we  had  not  time  nor 
streno-th  to  see. 

We  went  by  train,  intending  to  alight  at  Kidder- 
minster and  cycle  on,  but  the  weather  had  turned  to 
heavy  rain,  and  we  kept  our  seats  for  Worcester. 
Leaving  our  things  at  an  hotel,  we  went  at  once  to 
the  flimous  china-works,  where  we  should  be  sheltered 
from  the  wet  and  interested  in  the  china.  The  nuiseum 
is  the  only  one  at  any  works  tliat  shows  specimens  of 
the  continuous  products  of  their  manufacture,  and  the 
adherence  to  oriental  designs  in  all  the  earlier  makes  is 
very  striking.  We  saw  the  whole  process,  beginning  with 
the  bones  and  the  clay  that  prove  tlie  truth  of  the  potter's 
proverb — 

"We  i)Otter.s  make  our  pots 
Of  what  we  [)otters  are." 

Sometimes  they  sadly  add — - 

"And,  like  our  pots,  we  break." 

276 


KING   JOHN  277 

X5  for  a  pint  mug  should  not  be  a  breaking  price  for 
the  maker  and  seller.  I  contented  myself  with  teacups 
and  saucers  Avith  my  favourite  game-fowls  painted  on 
them.      X  met  old  friends  in  the  royal  lily  pattern. 

From  the  china-works  we  went  to  the  cathedral. 
1  had  seen  them  several  times  before  in  my  Cheltenham 
College  days  when  holidays  were  generally  spent  at 
Worcester,  Tewkesbury,  or  Gloucester.  A  well- re- 
membered boys'  tale  was  that  of  the  skin  of  the  Dane 
being  on  the  door  of  the  crypt,  and  the  history  of  the 
burial  of  Kina*  John.  Before  his  time  the  Norman 
kings  when  dead  had  merely  been  salted  like  bacon, 
but  John  was  so  precious  they  embalmed  him,  dressed 
him  in  all  his  finery  with  his  sword  in  his  hand,  and  put 
a  monk's  cowl  over  his  head,  so  that  when  some  spirit 
from  another  world  found  him,  it  would  see  the  cowl 
and  know  that  he  must  have  been  religious.  Time 
mocked  the  emlmlmment,  for  when  some  men  looked  at 
him  a  few  years  since  sword  and  hand  had  crumbled 
into  dust,  and  one  of  them  saw  a  maggot  which  he  said 
was  just  the  thing  for  a  fish,  and  hurrying  with  it  to 
the  river,  he  soon  caught  a  salmon,  and  w^anted  more. 

We  also  went  to  the  old  house  known  as  the 
Commanderv,  which  we  left  in  disgust.  The  charge 
for  admission  was  willingly  paid,  l)ut  the  charge  of  a 
guinea  for  each  exposure  made  in  photographing  was 
rather  "  too  thick."  We  were  told  nothing  was  allowed 
to  be  copied,  sketched,  or  measured,  though  we  might 
see  the  hole  where  King  (Jharles  hid  and  the  mantel- 
piece hidden  from  CJromwell.  As  there  is  not  the 
slio-htest  evidence  that  either  the  king  or  Oliver  were 
ever  in  the  house,  and  we  \\'ould  not  have  taken  the 
trouble  to  measure  or  copy  anything,  we  ^vere  glad  to 
get  safely  out,  and  see,  for  nothing,  spots  undoubtedly 
historic. 

At  the  end  of  a  little  street  there  is  a  small  square, 
onee  used  as  a  corn-market,  with  an  old  house  at  the 

s  2 


2/8       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

further  end,  and  a  narrow  passage  beside  it.  Tliat  is 
the  place  where  the  young  king  made  his  last  stand 
in  Worcester's  famous  fight  ere  he  bolted  down  the 
entry  and  fled  all  night  northwards  for  Scotland, 
morning's    dawn    finding    Whiteladies,    and     his    next 


THE    NAKROW    ENTRY    TO    THE    LEFT    IS    WHERE    THE    KING    FLED 
FROM    THE   FIGHT 


nights   were    passed   in   Woolf's    barn   at   Madeley   and 
with  the  Pendrills  at  Boscoljel. 

The  rain  had  hardly  ceased  in  the  morning  and 
mists  hung  thick  upon  the  town  and  country  as  we 
"  held  our  course  for  Tewksbury."  We  began  by  train 
and  the  weather  cleared,      A  broad  highway  with  grand 


TEWKESBURY  279 

margins  of  grass  took  us  past  the  field  where  Clarence 
stabbed  and  the  Red  Hose  fell.  At  the  abbey  church 
X  was  eager  to  take  photographs,  thougli  he  generally 
shuns  "state  establishments."  He  would  have  set  up 
his  camera  iti  the  Holy  of  Holies,  for  it  was  surrounded 
with  the  gorgeous  tombs  of  Princes,  Earls,  Lords  and 
Knights,  Abbots  and  Bishops,  and  most  of  these  fine 
folk  were  his  ancestors,  or  some  relation  to  them,  but 
what  good  they  were  to  him  I  could  not  quite  see. 
Wearied  with  choice  he  rested  a  little  while  on  tlie 
grave  of  one  of  liis  forefathers  who  had  been  hanged 
at  Hereford,  and  I  photographed  him  there.  His  atti- 
tude of  meditation  and  mourning  are  more  natural  than 
ecclesiastical,  Ijut  the  picture  as  a  whole  is  good,  and 
it  shows  the  tomb  on  the  right  where  the  sculptured 
skeleton  has  a  mouse  gnawing  at  its  bowels,  a  snake 
round  its  leg,  and  a  snail  and  a  toad  in  the  shroud 
at  its  neck.  Perhaps  tlie  original  of  this  skeleton  did 
not  care  to  be  with  those  other  grand  folk  whose  lives 
W'Cre  generally  cut  off  short  and  sudden,  for  if  they 
survived  the  battle,  there  was  the  scaffold,  poison,  or 
the    dagger  waiting  for  them. 

Tewkesbury's  fine  church  is  a  w^onderfully  in- 
teresting place.  What  a  blessing  it  was  bought  by  the 
tow^n  at  the  great  robbery,  when  the  lead  and  bells 
w^ere  valued  at  ^453  but  the  extraordinary  excellent 
sculptured  stone -work  was  of  no  account.  Its  architec- 
ture is  amazing  in  its  strength  and  massiveness,  while 
the  chiselled  stone  is  made  to  look  like  lace,  and  it 
might  all  have  perished.  Within  its  consecrated  walls 
battle  and  murder  had  one  great  day  of  riot.  The 
abbot  tried  to  stop  the  king  in  his  slaughter,  but  the 
king  never  had  mercy.  Any  foe  of  his  was  killed  as 
soon  as  possiV)le,  and  he  generally  witnessed  the  murder. 

Days  might  be  v/ell  spent  in  Tewkesbury  and  its 
environs.  We  had  only  hours  that  flew  too  quickly,  for 
we  had  photographed  more  inside  and  round  a  church 


THE    NAVE    OF    TEWKESBURY    ABBEY    CHUKCH 


TOMBS  AND   CHANTRIES   OF — 


1.  Richard  Bkauchamp,   created  Earl  of  Worcester  after  Aginermrt. 

2.  FitzHamon,  Founder  of  the  Abbey,  and  kinsman  of  tie  Conqueror. 

3.  Sir  Hugh  i.e   Dkspes.ser,   whose  mother,    Eleanor,   was  heiress  of 

Gilbert   de  Clare,   io*h   Earl  of  Gloucester  and  Lord   of  Tewkes- 
bury:   killed  at  Bannocklmrn,  and  buried  here. 


BIETS-MOIiTON   COURT  28 


o 


than  we  had  ever  done  before,  except  at  Tong.  I  had 
arranged  to  be  at  Birts-Morton  that  afternoon,  and  the 
place  was  hard  to  find,  Ijeing  somewhere  on  tlie  road  to 
Ledbury.  We  crossed  tlie  Avon  ])y  the  Black  Bear  Inn 
and  coursed  through  miles  of*  fertile  country  where  the 
apple-trees  were  propped  to  hold  aloft  their  glorious 
crop  of  fruit.  AVe  found  the  house,  and  it  w^as  worth  the 
finding  ;  but  the  day  had  gone  very  dark  and  gloomy, 
making  it  impossible  to  photograph  inside  and  spoiling 
even  the  picturesque  exterior. 

The  moated  manor-house  of  Birts-Morton  is  of 
many  ages,  its  oldest  part  having  l)een  a  Norman  keep 
and  probably  Imilt  on  an  island,  for  even  now  the  water 
in  the  narrowed  moat  laps  the  walls  of  the  older  parts, 
and  for  lono-  it  was  the  court-house  of  Malvern  Chace, 
the  original  door  having  for  knocker  what  is  said  to  be 
a  sanctuary  ring.  The  room  that  was  the  court  is 
panelled  round  and  decorated  with  the  names  and  arms 
of  the  Justices  of  the  Peace,  each  of  whom  would  sit 
beneath  his  shield  of  arms.  Some  of  the  names  are 
still  familiar.  Sir  John  Scudamore,  knight ;  Sir  Thomas 
Throgmorton,  knight ;  Sir  Henry  Polle,  knight ;  John 
Blount,  of  Eye,  esquire  ;  William  Rudhall,  of  liudhall, 
esquire ;  the  Lord  Copley,  and  others.  A  very  fine 
mantelj^iece  had  a  hiding-hole  Ijehind  it,  and  most 
curious  relics  have  been  rescued  from  the  moat — horse- 
shoes made  like  pattens  that  wlien  shod  on  horses 
would  leave  marks  like  tlie  footprints  of  children,  or  the 
slot  of  deer  or  cows.  They  would  be  used  by  fugitives 
to  throw  pursuers  off  their  track,  and  are  interesting 
records  of  the  devious  ways  of  our  hunted  forefathers  in 
the  Merry  England  of  not  so  very  loug  ago. 

The  old  banqueting-hall  is  detached  from  the  present 
house  and  used  as  a  store  for  cheese  and  apples.  I 
enjoyed  the  once  familiar  smell :  a  smell  of  plenty, 
comforting  in  many  an  old  coinitry  hall.  The  cheese  was 
called  cheddar,  and  some  of  the  apples  weighed  a  pound 


OLD    iiOL".-i:    IN    TEWKESBURY 


CARDINAL   WOLSEY  287 

each.  If  any  one  thinks  it  easy  to  grow  an  apple  to 
weigh  a  pound,  let  him  try.  There  was  a  badger-skin 
and  trophies  of  sport  and  vermin.  On  the  moat  we  see 
wild  ducks  and  water-hens,  and  in  it  are  five^sorts  of 
fish.  Around  it  are  old  yews,  prolific  orchards,  and 
a  fertile  country,  all  appealing  strongly  to  my  taste. 
A  spaniel  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  near  to  an 
ancient  shuftle-board  table.  We  hear  tales  of  ghosts, 
legends,  history — How  are  we  to  know  legends  from 
history  ? 

The  place  was  named  Morton  Court  before  the 
Brutes  or  Birts  added  their  name.  Sir  John  Oldcastle 
the  Lollard,  Hakluyts,  Nanfans  from  Cornwall  owned  it. 
Huskisson,  who  was  killed  at  the  opening  of  the  first 
railway,  was  born  here.  Cardinal  Wolsey  in  his  younger 
days  was  tutor  here,  probably  far  happier  in  his  nice 
little  antique  room  over  the  porch  than  he  would  be  at 
Hampton  Court.  He  fell  under  the  shadow  of  "  The 
Baofo'ed  Stone"  and  thouoht  his  luck  had  p^one.  "The 
Bagged  Stone"  is  one  of  the  end  peaks  of  the  Malv^ern 
hills,  about  two  miles  distant,  and  if  its  shadow  falls 
on  Birts-Morton  something  dreadful  is  sure  to  happen. 
It  was  soon  evident  to  me  that  the  shadow  could  be 
projscted  so  far  about  midwinter  only,  and  by  the  after- 
noon sun.  Thev  answered,  "Christmas  was  the  time." 
Tlie  shadow  fell  upon  the  great  cardinal  long  before 

"  He  trol  tlie  ways  of  glory 
And  .sound?d  all  tlie  dejiths  and  shoals  of  honour"; 

long  b afore  he 

''  Shed  a  tear  in  all  his  miseries," 
and  felt 

"  A  jteaoe  above  all  earthly  dignities, 
A  still  and  (|uiet  conscience." 

One   more  little   tale   is  of  "  The  Bloody  Meadow," 
where  a  duel  ^vas  fouo-ht  about  a  ladv  fair.      One  man 


THE    BANQUETING    HALL,    BIRTS-MORTON 


NEW    BRIDtJE   AND    OLD    GATEWAY 


290       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

was  killed,  and  the  other  died,  and  the  o-riet'-stricken 
damsel  left  money  for  a  sermon  to  be  preached  every 
year  for  ever  airainst  the  crime  of  duellino-.  So  s^reat 
is  the  eloquence  or  the  efficacy  of  the  preaching  that 
there  has  never  been  another  duel  in  that  meadow 
ever  since. 

Leaving  the  Conrt,  we  went  to  the  adjoining  church, 
which  was  being  lavishly  decorated  for  the  harvest 
festival. 

The  parson  kindlv  showed  the  ancient  monu- 
ments, the  alms-box,  made  from  a  piece  of  hollowed 
oak,  with  three  locks  to  it,  and  worth  more  than 
all  the  money  it  could  hold ;  the  sanctuary  ring, 
wdiich,  he  said,  was  genuine  ;  and  this  led  to  further 
information,  for  the  court-house,  though  adjoining 
the  church,  is  not  in  the  same  parish,  and  it  is 
tenanted  by  Methodists.  When  I  told  him  we  had 
photographed  the  place,  with  the  tower  of  the  church 
reflected  in  the  moat,  he  seemed  shocked  at  the 
reflection  ;  that  his  tower  should  reflect  itself  un- 
known to  him  in  the  waters  of  the  Methodists  was. 
sad ;  and  a  former  rector,  an  Irish  Orangeman,  had 
planted  the  churcliyard  full  of  foreign  trees.  He 
had  my  sympathetic  condolences,  hoping  he  would 
soon  fell  all  the  foreign  trees  and  preserve  the  very 
curious  alms-box  and  the  genuine  sanctuary  ring.  He 
could  aflbrd  to  let  the  Methodists  have  the  shadow 
while  he  had  the  substance. 

This  divided  parish  lacked  the  usual  inn,  and  we 
had  to  cycle  many  miles  for  tea,  sustaining  ourselves  on 
the  way  with  the  kindly  fruits  of  the  orchards.  Some- 
times the  lanes  were  lined  Mdth  blackberries,  at  others 
there  were  not  even  hedges,  but  open  common  with 
comfortable  farms  beyond,  and  for  miles  alongside  were 
the  Malvern  hills,  all  glorious  in  the  shaded  tints  of 
evening.  Darkness  was  coming  on  as  we  descended  to 
the  little  tow^n  of  Upton-on-Severn,  crossed  the  river,, 


lIUDDlXaTON    COURT 

A  home  of  the  Gunpowder  Plot 


T  2 


294       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD   HOMES 

and  travelled   fast   across    the  flat    and  tamer    land   to 
Worcester. 

On  the  followino-  mornino-  we  set  off  to  find  Hud- 
dington,  or  Hodington,  Court,  one  of  the  old  homes 
where  the  Gunpowder  Plot  was  hatched.  It  is  hard  to 
find  now  ;  it  was  not  found  then,  or  perhaps  it  would 
not  be  here  to-day. 

After  cycling  over  miles  of  lanes,  where  the  pears 
and  apples  lay  in  the  road,  or  dangling  from  the 
overhanging  boughs  knocked  against  the  face  of 
any  passer-by,  we  turned  down  a  narrow  stony  way 
through  sliadowing  trees  and  suddenly  came  upon  a 
grey  and  ghostly  house  that  took  our  breath  away.  It 
looked  unreal,  as  Stokesay  and  some  few  other  spots 
have  looked. 

Was  it  real,  unreal,  or  ideal '!  It  might  be  any- 
thing. Was  it  shunned  and  cursed,  or  merely  rotting, 
tottering  in  decay  (  No  one  was  about,  and  not  a 
sound  could  be  heard  on  that  fine  autumnal  morning 
as  we  gazed  upon  it.  At  intervals  ripe  fruit  dropped, 
splash  into  the  slimy  greenish  water  of  the  moat.  A 
robin,  "  messenger  of  calm  decay,"  twittered  sweet  bits 
of  song,  and  from  a  bog  of  nettles  came  the  cackling 
of  a  hen.  That  was  a  sound  of  life  where  all  around 
seemed  passing  into  placid  death. 

We  encourao-ed  one  another  to  cross  the  brido^e 
and  knock  upon  the  open  door.  A  lean  cat  peeped 
at  us  and  fled.  Then  came  a  figure — ^Was  it  witch 
or  woman  ? — with  long  grey  hair  in  wisps,  and  two 
teeth,  one  above  and  one  below.  Is  this  Mariana 
of  the  Moated  Grange  ?  More  worn,  more  weary, 
and  more  stricken  with  care  than  the  one  of  Tenny- 
son's dream.  She  told  us  there  was  nothing  to  see 
in  the  house.  Anything  worth  having  had  been 
stript  and  carted  to  Ingestre.  The  great  oak  beams 
are    ashen    grey,   though    time    and   damp    and    vermin 


HUDDINGTON   COURT 


The  home  of  Robert,  Thomas,  and  John  Wintour  or  Winter,  who  were  hanged  and 
quartered  as  traitors  in  the  Gunpowder  Plot 


296       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

seem  powerless  with  them.  The  cliiinney  is  fine. 
There  is  a  fairly  good  staircase,  and  on  the  diamond 
panes  were  said  to  be  the  names  of  Robert  and  Thom, 
the  brothers  Winter,  or  Wintonr,  who  were  in  the 
inner  circle  of  the  ever-famous  plot.  They  were  landed 
gentry  of  good  ftimily  :  in  the  words  of  Guy  Faukes, 
they  were    "gentlemen  of  blood  and  name." 

To  learn  more  of  the  great  plot  I  have  now  read 
three  books  on  it,  wi-itten  from  opposite  points  of  view. 
One  is  by  Father  John  Gerard,  S.J.,  a  namesake  of  one 
of  the  suspected  priests  who  fled.  It  seems  certain  the 
Government- — that  is,  Cecil — knew  of  the  plot  long  before 
the  mysterious  letter  to  Lord  Monteagle,  but  waited  to 
catch  the  priests.  The  Parliament  was  to  meet  on  the 
fifth  of  November,  and  iii  the  preceding  night  Guy 
Faukes  and  his  powder  were  seized.  Then  the  con- 
spirators fled,  and  on  the  night  of  the  sixth  were  at 
Huddington,  after  trying  to  raise  help  on  the  way. 

Catesby  sent  Bates  to  Coughton  to  Father  Garnet, 
the  Superior  of  the  Jesuits,  and  Fathers  Hart  and 
Greenway  met  the  others  at  Huddington.  Here,  on 
Thursday,  the  seventh  of  November  1605,  eleven  of  the 
thirteen  original  conspirators  of  the  Gunpowder  Plot, 
with  about  twenty-five  friends,  heard  mass,  made  confes- 
sion, received  absolution  and  the  Sacrament,  then  seized 
the  arms  that  were  here  stored  and  made  ready  for  war. 

The  Jesuit,  Father  Greenway,  alias  Oswald  Tesimond, 
escaped.  Thomas  Winter,  who  was  one  of  the  leaders, 
described  himself  in  his  confession  as  of  Hoodington, 
gent.  His  elder  brother,  Robert,  who  owned  the  estates, 
was  also  one  of  the  thirteen.  They,  and  a  younger 
half-brother,  John,  who  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
plot,  were  all  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered.  What  a 
terrible  time  of  trouble,  and  of  rebuke,  and  of  blas- 
phemy fell  on  Huddington  I  and  the  old  home  stands 
there  to-dav  looking:  weird  and  sad,  wretched  and 
cursed — the  picture  of  its  history. 


HUDDIXGTON   COURT 

The  last  home  where  the  traitors  met  for  their  devotions 


298       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

On  another  of  the  windows  some  one  had  written^ 
"  Past  care,  past  care."  But  who  was  past  care  ?  No- 
one  knows.  Not  the  Lady  Winter,  who  still  comes 
again  amid  the  ghostly  shades  of  moonlight  sadly 
sighing  over  the  irrevocable  past. 

The  neighbouring  church  is  like  the  Court,  though 
it  seems  a  new  life  for  it  is  awakening.  It  is  very  old 
and  tiny,  but  I  never  saw  a  church  better  restored  and 
treated.  The  door  was  not  locked,  and  pictures  of  the 
church  with  histories  of  it  and  the  house  were  ready 
for  any  one  to  take.  I  begged  of  X  to  photograph  the 
time-worn  porch  or  carvings,  but  plates  were  limited, 
and  we  knew^  not  what  was  before  us.  There  is  a  high 
pew  of  grey  oak  with  carved  sides  and  slits  for  peep- 
holes ;  a  long,  heavy  coffer,  somewhat  like  my  own  ; 
big,  solid  benches,  some  ancient  tiles,  and  a  brass  of 
Sir  George  Wintowre,  the  grandson  of  the  conspirator 
and  the  last  of  the  name  at  the  Hall.  It  is  not  many 
years  since  rabbits  burrowed  under  the  walls  of  the 
church  and  kindled  in  the  place  of  worship.  A  hunted 
fox  sought  sanctuary  here,  and  actually  got  it.  Let 
it  be  recorded,  for  it  seems  a  stranofe  tale  in  our 
days. 

We  sat  down  to  think,  though  time  was  flying 
elsewhere,  even  if  it  stood  still  here.  For  two  hours  of 
that  lovely  aiitinnn  morning  we  had  loitered  round  this 
grey  and  ghostly  hall,  and  seen  no  human  being,  nor 
spoken  to  anything  but  Mariana,  who  now  might  be 
sadly  crooning — 

"  My  life  is  dreary, 

...   I  am  aweary,  aweary, 
I  would  that  1  weie  dead  !  " 

Or    she    might    be    catching    birds,    or   lapping    cream. 
There   was  mystery  in  the  air  and  charming  solitude. 
The  breath    of  autumn    stirred    the    trees.       Down 
dropped   ripe    pears    into    the    rank    grass,   and    purple 


THE  TRAITORS'   HOME  299 

plums  of  lustrous  bloom  splashed  into  the  greenish 
waters  of  the  moat.  We  took  the  o-ood  the  gods 
provided,  and  lingered  lovingly  there,  wondering  what 
:strange  secrets,  arms,  armour,  or  treasures  might  be 
hidden  in  the  accumulated  mud  of  the  almost  stag- 
nant pool. 

What  strangely  neglected  spots  there  are  in  this 
realm  of  busy  England  even  now,  this  hurrying 
twentieth  century  I  Fascinating  spots,  forgotten  by 
^11,  slowly  changing  as  the  seasons  come  and  go,  still 
more  slowly  sleeping  their  little  lives  away. 


THE   AVENUE   OF   YEWS   AT   CLEEVE   PRIOR 


300       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

By  many  winding,  devious  ways  we  travelled 
through  an  unknown  country  Avhere  the  names  v.^ere 
double    but    the    habitations    few.       Signposts    pointed 


THE   GARDEN   SIDE   OF   CLEEVE   PRIOR   COURT-HOUSE 


down  narrow  lanes  to  Flyford  Flavell,  Wyre  Piddle, 
Temple  Grafton.  Then  it  came  to  my  remembrance 
that  some  searchers  say  that  Shakspere  was  married, 
at  Temple  Grafton.  We  were  going  to  Bidford  for 
lunch  — "  drunken  Bidford."  Jangling  rhymes  came 
back    to    my   memory   in    bits.       We   were    actually   in 


^^'T^ss^r 


THE   GLORIOUS    COMPANY   OF   APOSTLES 


AND    EVANGELISTS   IX   YEW,    CLEEVE   PKIOR 


304       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

Broom,     and     every     signpost     In'oiight     memories     of 
Shakspere. 

"  Pi[iing  Peliworth,  Dancing  ^Tarston, 
Haunted  Hillboroiigh,  Hungry  Grafton, 
Dodging  Exliall.  Papist  Wixford, 
Beggarly  Broom,  and  Drunken  Bidford." 

We  were  in  the  midst  of  them.  From  them 
the  "sippers"  came  Avho  outdrank  Shakspere  when 
the  "topers"  had  gone  to  Evesham  fair.  We  went 
to  the  drunken  town,  and  at  the  sign  of  the  Falcon 
we  also  drank. 

We  crossed  the  Avon  by  a  fine  bridge  and  asked 
our  way  to  Cleeve  Prior,  where  is  an  old  manor-house 
famous  for  its  yews.  There  are  sixteen  of  them  in  two 
rows — twelve  for  the  apostles,  and  four  for  the  evan- 
gelists. They  were  planted  by  the  monks  of  Evesham 
in  pre-Keformation  days,  and  have  long  survived  monks 
and  abbey  and  Tudors.  They  seem  to  join  hands  and 
form  an  enormous  heds^e  with  holes  cut  throuo-h  it.  A 
cat  had  its  nest  in  one,  to  the  great  disgust  of  a  robin, 
who  was  anticipating  being  eaten.  The  cat's  head  may 
be  seen  in  the  photograph  on   page   303. 

Ov^'er  the  doorway  of  the  house  is  an  old  inscription 
with  crowned  heads  on  the  stone.  There  is  a  circular 
dovecot,  bis:  barns,  an  immense  vard,  all  in  ii^ood  order 
and  repair,  with  a  general  air  of  comfort  that  is  sooth- 
ing and  peaceful.  A  little  way  from  the  gate  is  an  inn 
that  is  very  picturesque  with  brilliant-foliaged  creepers 
on  its  irregular  walls. 

In  1 8 1  I ,  one  Sheppey  unearthed  at  Cleeve  Prior 
two  pots  containing  Roman  coins.  One  was  full  of 
gold,  the  other  of  silver.  He  fuddled  some  away,  and 
then  employed  others  to  sell  the  residue,  for  which  he 
received  over  ^700.  It  seems  to  me  that  every  parish 
in  Eno'land  has  hidden  more  or  less  of  Roman  coins, 
and  many  have  had  pots  full  Who  made  all  the 
money,    or    who    lost    it    and    died    broken-hearted,    we 


A   FRUITFUL   LAND 

know  —  some    one     has    it 


305 
little 


shall    never     know  —  some    one     has    it     for 
while. 

Journeying  on  towards  Evesham  we  see  in  a  field 
by  a  farmyard  the  enormous  tithe  -  barn  of  North 
Littleton  that  was  built  about  1370.  There  is  nothing 
in  our  picture  to  show  the  scale,  but  it  is  over  forty 
yards  in  length,  all  in  one  span,  with  plenty  of  room 


LITTLETON   TITHE-BARN" 


for  a  team  of  horses  with  wagon-load  of  corn  to  drive 
in,  turn  round,  and  come  out  again. 

As  we  neared  Evesham  all  the  country  became  one 
vast  orchard  or  garden  with  scores  of  acres  of  asparagus 
and  tomatoes.  The  crop  of  fruit  was  enormous,  and 
I  noted  there  were  very  few  birds.  Horribly  dirtv, 
smoking  men  were  gathering  plums — it  being  well  the 
eater  of  them  did  not  see  the  gatherer. 

After  all  we  had  heard  of  Evesham  and  its  grand 
bell-tower  we  were  rather  disappointed.  There  is  a 
fine  old   building   in   the    market-place,   plastered   over 

u 


IN    KVESHAM 


J 


oS       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD    HOMES 


and  therefore  spoilt,  so  we  do  not  reproduce  it.  Tliere 
are  many  ancient  and  picturesque  bits,  but  modern 
houses  jar  against  them.  The  town  was  busy ;  even 
at  the  old  inn  with  the  fine  sign  of  "  The  Rose  and 
Crown "  we  were  crowded,  and  glad  of  the  quiet, 
leisurely  cycling  Imck  to  Worcester. 

The  next  mornino-  we  cycled  northwards  for  home, 
hoping  to  find  Harvington,  near  to  Kidderminster  (not 
the  place  of  the  same  name  near  to  Evesham),  and  to 
see  the  villages  of  Ombersley  and  Chaddesley  Corbett. 
Some  writers  praise  them  as  being  the  prettiest  villages 
in  England  ;  but,  in  my  opinion,  they  are  neither  of 
them  to  compare  with  Weobley.  There  is  a  very  pic- 
turesque inn  at  the  latter  of  the  two,  with  outer  steps, 
l)ut  we  could  not  photograph  it,  as  our  plates  were  used. 

Salwarpe  Court  is  a  fine  old  house  near  to  a  church 
and  rectory,  perched  high  above  a  canal  or  river,  and  far 
down  a  long,  winding  lane.  It  was  the  home  of  the  Beau- 
champs,  the  wife  of  the  "King-maker"  being  probably 
born  here.  Its  name  has  perhaps  come  from  its  salt,  for  at 
Domesday  survey  there  were  five  salt-pans  at  Salwarp. 

At  Ombersley  we  took  two  pictures,  and  found  the 
outside  of  the  inn  was  much  better  than  the  reception 
inside,  so  we  journeyed  on  and  found  another  inn  with 
the  grand  name  of  "  The  Mitre  Oak."  At  a  much 
humbler  })lace,  where  the  ceiling  w^as  low,  the  fireplace 
big  and  open,  the  roasting-jack  bright,  the  ingle-nook 
ample,  and  the  furniture  old,  we  were  well  received 
and  had  P"Ood  cheer. 

Harvington  Court  or  Hall,  thougli  not  so  remote 
from  the  haunts  of  men  as  Huddington  is,  is  another 
grim  and  ghostly  house.  Its  hiding  -  holes  were  not 
so  famous  as  those  of  its  neighbour  at  Henlip,  where 
tliere  were  eleven  secret  rooms,  and  the  schemer  of  them, 
Owen,  with  Garnet  and  other  Jesuits,  were  hidden  for 
seven  days  and  nights  of  bafi^ed  search,  cold,  cramp, 
and  hunger  Ideating  them  at  last. 


I' 


UNDER    THREE   STAIRS    IX    THE    FAR    CORNER   IS   THE    ENTRANCE    TO 
TilE    PRINCIPAL    SECRET    CHAllBER 


THE    GHOSTLY    HOME    OF    BATS 

In  the  attics  of  Harvington 


312       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

That  house  is  gone,  but  this  can  be  seen  to-day.  It 
is  easy  to  lose  oneself  in  the  labyrinth  of  passages,  the 
dark  cellars  or  dungeons,  or  the  forest  of  oak  in  the  roof. 
X  left  me  to  roam  about  by  myself,  and  that  certainly 
hindered  my  exploration,  from  the  fear  of  accidents. 
The  principal  secret  chamber  is  entered  from  the  stair- 


IN   A   COUNTRY   PUB 


case,  which  is  an  exceedingly  massive  work  in  oak  that 
goes  from  bottom  to  top  of  the  house,  and  still  bears 
marks  of  dark  red  paint.  About  the  second  floor, 
three  steps  lead  from  the  regular  stairw  ay  to  a  central 
hall.  The  end  of  these  three  steps  is  movable,  and  I 
crept  under  to  find  there  was  a  large  room,  quite 
dark  and  very  low,  apparently  contrived  between  the 
ceiling  of  the  rooms  below  and  tlie  floor  of  the  room 
above.      I  could   not   see,  and  dare  not  go  far  into  it. 


314       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

but  it  seemed  a  big  space,  where  many  men  could  have 
slept  if  they  had  been  careful  not  to  snore. 

The  house  is  a  verv  large  one,  and  purposely  irregu- 
larly built.  It  would  be  almost  impossible  to  locate 
that  central  liidino'-room  from  a,nv  outside  observations 
or  measurements,  and  in  the  various  roofs,  with  vast 
numbers  of  complicated  timbers,  there  miglit  be  many 
secret  chambers,  for  I  saw  one  or  two. 

The  Hall  is  close  to  a  farmyard.  In  front  the  moat 
is  nearly  dry,  but  very  wide  at  the  back  and  side. 
There  were  many  water-hens  among  the  duckweed,  and 
a  good  flock  of  swan-geese.  We  walked  over  the  bridge; 
and  clambered  about  the  empty  house  for  some  time. 
No  one  interfered  with  us.  No  one  said,  "What  doest 
thou  ?  "  and  the  story  of  it  I  have  none  to  tell. 


HARVINGTON    COVRT 


1905 
HANDFORTH   HALL 

HANDFORTH  HALL,  in  Cheshire,  is  five  miles 
houth  of  where  I  write  these  words  in  Dids- 
biirv,  and  a  sale  by  auction  of  its  contents 
being  advertised  about  the  time  I  wrote  of  it 
in  the  chapter  on  Wardley,  it  occurred  to  me  to  give 
it  a  chapter  to  itself,  even  if  it  were  only  a  repetition 
of  what  has  already  appeared  in  my  "  Chronicles  of 
Cheadle,"  for  all  the  copies  of  that  book  were  sold 
.long  ago,  and  are  not  likely  to  be  seen  bv  readers 
of  these  pilgrimages. 

The  earliest  records  of  the  place  are  romantic  tales 
of  the  Honfords  of  Honford,  who  seem  to  have  been  a 
rough-and-ready  breed,  only  at  peace  when  thev  were 
fighting,  and  not  very  particular  as  to  marriage  or 
nnuTler.  At  least  one  of  them  was  a  Crusader,  for 
when  in  the  Holy  Land  a  star  fell  from  heaven  in  front 
of  the  armies  of  Saladin,  Honford  of  Honford  instantly 
seized  it,  and,  fixing  it  to  his  shield,  it  became  the 
cognizance  of  his  race.  If  any  Thomas-a-Didymus 
doubt,  he  may  see  the  star  in  the  glass  of  the  Honford 
chapel  in  Cheadle  church,  where  it  has  borne  its  silent 
testimony  for  more  than  three  hundred  vears. 

Another  of  tlie  familv  was  a  witness  of  the  mvsterv 
and  tragedy  of  Joan  of  Arc  :  and  when  the  fiery  cross 
went  round  the  Scots  for  the  invasion  of  Eno-land,  and 
every  manor  or  parish  in  Lancashire  and  Cheshire  sent 
its  best  inanhood  to  meet  them,  the  last  Honford  of 
Honford.   tlie  last   heir-male  of  his  race,    fell    witli    ro 


3i6       PlLcaUMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

iiiaiiv    of   his    iieiyhlxnirs  and    kinsfolk  on    the  famous 
Cheviot  moor. 

Sir  Edward  Stanley,  immortalised  in  "  Marmion."  was 
lord  of  Bosley  near  Macclesfield.  Christopher  Savage, 
the  mavor  of  Macclesfield,  and  so  many  of  the  towns- 
men fell  in  the  fight  that  for  some  years  afterwards  a 
quorum  of  substantial  burgesses  could  not  be  formed  to 
govern  the  town.  Randle  Bebington  of  Bebington, 
with  William,  liandle,  James,  John  and  Charles,  the 
sons  of  his  brother,  were  all  killed.  Venables,  the 
twenty-first  lord  of  Kynderton,  Sherd  of  Disley, 
Maisterson  of  Nantwich,  Fouleshurst  of  Crewe,  with 
many  more  of  the  local  squires  and  gentry,  were  dead 
upon  the  field.  The  Abbot  of  Vale  Royal  went  with 
three  hundred  of  his  tenantry,  and  perhaps  every  name 
in  Cheshire  was  represented,  for  we  may  read  of 
Fittons,  Duttons,  Dones  and  others.  These  are  they 
who  won  the  victory.  A  Scotchman  has  written  of  the 
other  side^ — 

"Tradition,  legend,  tune,  and  song, 
Shall  many  an  age  that  wail  prolong ; 
Still  from  the  sire  the  son  shall  hear 
Of  the  stern  strife  a?id  carnage  drear 
On  Flodden's  fatal  field  : 
Where  shiver'd  was  fair  Scotland's  spear 
And  l)r(iken  was  her  sliield." 

Though  the  last  male  Honford  had  fallen,  the 
romance  of  the  race  survived,  for  the  dead  squire  had 
left  a  little  daughter,  who  was  at  once  married  to  Sir 
John  Stanley,  a  son  of  the  Bishop  of  Ely,  who  "  lived 
with  one  who  was  not  his  sister,  and  who  wanted 
nothino-  to  mnke  her  his  wife  save  marriaofe."  The 
united  ages  of  the  newly-wedded  couple  would  not  be 
quite  thirty.  She  was  about  ten,  and  heiress  to  the 
estates  of  the  Honfords.  He  had  nought  to  inherit, 
but  liis  natural  father  looked  after  him,  and,  as  our 
oldest  glee  says,   "  Merrily  sang  the  monks  of  Ely,"  so 


HANDFORTH    JIALL 


o 


i8       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 


Ely's    bishop  got  his    son    wed  to  the    heiress,    and    a 

notable  man  he  proved.      He  was  seventeen  when    he 

led    four    thousand    men   into    the  l)attle,   and    an    old 
ballad  says— 


"  There  never  was  bairn  born 
That  day  bare  him  better  " 

Sir  Walter's  version  says — 

"  Let  Stanley  charge  with  spur  of  fire 
With  Chester  charge  and  Lancashire, 
Full  upon  Scotland's  central  host, 
Or  Victoiy  and  England's  lost." 

After  the  Cheshire  bowmen  did  their  fell  work,  the 
cliarge  won  Flodden  for  England.  Dim  traditions  tell 
of  churchyard  yews  still  living  that  furnished  bows  for 
Flodden.  Speke  Hall  still  shows  its  trophies.  Manu- 
scrijDt  records  of  witnesses  exist,  and  every  parish  around 
me  sent  men  to  that  death -grip  struggle  on  Flodden. 

The  new  lord  of  Honford,  or  Handford.  or  Hand- 
forthe  as  it  was  then  variously  spelt,  was  not  suffered 
to  be  long  in  peace.  His  neighbour,  Legh  of  Adlington, 
had  married  Joan  Lark,  a  cast-off  mistress  of  Cardinal 
Wolsey,  and  a  quarrel  arose  between  him  and  Sir  John 
Stanley.  The  Leghs  invoked  the  aid  of  the  all-powerful 
cardinal,  who  had  Stanley  imprisoned,  and  it  may  be 
this  Joan  was  the  woman  referred  to  by  ShaksjDere  — 

"  I'll  startle  you 
Worse  than  the  sacrum  bell,  when  the  brown  wench 
Lay  kissing  in  your  arms,  Loi'd  Cardinal." 

Sir  John  was  probably  unjustly  condemned,  for  it 
seems  to  have  broken  his  heart.  As  far  as  he  could, 
he  settled  his  affairs,  past,  present,  and  future.  In 
memory  of  his  father,  and  for  prayers  for  his  parents,  he 
built  the  Stanley  chapel,  in  the  cathedral  of  Manchester, 
and,  in  the  inscription  on  its  portal,  dated  it  with  the 
date  of  the  battle,  as  may  still  be  seen.  From  the  Abbot 
of  Westminster  he  bought   "letters  of  paternity"    for 


HANDFORTH    HALL 


320       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMP^S 

himself,  wife,  and  son,  gave  to  trustees  all  he  had, 
renounced  his  wife  and  all  the  pomps,  vanities, 
pleasures  and  delectations  of  this  world,  avowed 
chastity,  and  Ijecame  a  Benedictine.  In  the  sacristy 
of  St.  Paul's,  London,  on  the  25th  June,  1528,  "  in  the 
face  of  the  church,"  the  married  couple  were  solemnly 
divorced  (or  released),  and  he  passes  from  our  ken.  His 
arms  may  still  he  seen  in  tlie  churches  of  Cheadle  and 
Manchester,  always  encircled  hy  the  mournful  motto  on 
Vanity  ;  and  as  I  have  written  Ijefore— lands  and  funds 
he  had  already  given  for  pious  uses,  penny  doles  to  poor 
widows  and  poor  maidens,  wages  to  priests  or  poor  who 
^^•ould  prav  for  him,  with  many  elaborate  safeguards 
and  quaint  old  terms  long  since  forgotten,  for  all  has 
passed  into  oblivion,  and  in  our  time  who  lingers  the 
money  or  who  does  the  praying  no  man  knoweth. 

The  wife  was  to  have  entered  into  "religion"  also, 
but  she  thought  Ijetter  of  it,  and  married  again.  Her 
second  husband  was  Uryan,  the  ninth  son  of  Sir  Piandle 
Brereton,  and  he  built  the  hall  of  Handforth,  as  the 
inscription  on  the  oaken  portal  shows  to-day — 

2ri)ts  liaullc  inas  buultirt)  In  tlir  ccnvf  of  ourr  iLovti  (Ttoti  m.rrcrr.lit't 
bg  ©Ituan  Brcvrtouu  I\nirjl)t  JLHl^om  inarurti  Iflartjavct  tiauglitcr  anti 
{)cgrc  of  iiLlulluam  iJantiforti]  of  ^^Jantiforttic  ilrsqugn-  ant  Ijati  Issue 
fai  sonncs  anti  ii  tiauglitrrs. 

This  porch  and  inscription  (with  necessary  ditfer- 
ences)  were  copied  in  the  new  hall  l)uilt  for  the 
neighbouring  manor  of  Adlington  by  Thomas  Legh 
when  he  married  Sibbel,  or  Sybyl,  a  daughter  of  Uryan 
and  Margaret.  Another  daughter  of  Uryan  by  his 
second  wife,  Alice  Tralford,  was  Mary,  the  motlier  of 
Edward  Barlow,  the  martyr.  A  brother  of  the  Breretons 
was  mixed  up  in  the  little  scandal  about  Queen  Anne 
Boleyn,  and  Sir  William,  the  great-grandson  of  Uryan, 
was  the  connnaiider-in-chief  of  the  armies  of  Parliament 
for  (Mieshire  and  adjacent  counties.      He  must  have  been 


THE   POECH,    HAXDFORTH    HALL 


324       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD   HOMES 

extraordinarily  active,  for  be  fought  battles  and  sieges 
in  every  town  of  tbe  district.  In  days  of  peace  be 
travelled   abroad   and   at   home,   writing  a   diary  of  bis 


^ 


HELM  AND  CREST  OF  BUERETON  OF  BRERETON 
IN  BRERETON  CHURCH 


journevs  which  is  still  interesting  reading.  He  liad 
men  over  from  Holland  to  make  a  decoy  for  wildfowl ; 
the  site  of  it  mav  be  traced  to-day  down  a  winding 
stream  opposite  the  ball  to  a  small  reservoir  now  used 
by  calico  printers. 


AX   HISTORIC   HOME 


o-D 


Hanclforth   Hall  actually  figures  again  iu    our   last 
bit  of  civil  war:  the  gallant  but  ill-starred  attempt  of 
I^nnce  Charlie  to  win  again  the  throne  of  his  ancestors 
trom  the  German  George  in  the  '45.       The  Prince  left 
Manchester  by  the   London  road,   turned  at  Eushford 
and  by  Burnage  Lane  reached  Didsburv.  where  he  built 
the  first  bridge  across  the  Mersey  and^got  to  Cheadle 
.btockport  was  avoided  because  the    bridge    there  was 
broken     down,     and     opposition     threatelied.        From 
Cheadle    to     Macclesfield     the    route    would     be     bv 
Handforth  Hall,  and  there  the  Prince  rested  and  dined 
Is  not  this  enough  of  English  historv  for  a  farm- 
house   near    to  a  railway  station  ?      Turnips,   chairs    a 
century  old,   and    lumber   are    being  sold    bv  auction. 
ihe  thmgs  and  the  folk  look  worn  out.      It  is  eleven 
years  since  X  and  I  were  there  before,  and  this  time 
1    tound   a    hiding-hole   in    the    stairs  that   was  partly 
broken  down.     Perhaps  there  are  ghosts  also-but  they 
don  t  pay  the  rent,  and  it  is  the  rent  that  is  the  bother 


HIDING-HOLE   IX   STAIKWAY 


X   2 


PARK   HALL 


PARK  HALL,  in  Salop,  Is  a  splendid  specimen 
of  the  black-and-white  houses  for  which  the 
mid- western  counties  of  England  are  tamous. 
It  was  i)iiilt  in  the  latter  half  of  the  sixteentli 
century  in  the  fashion  of  the  time.  Fortifications  were 
then  becoming-  obsolete.  There  are  no  signs  of  a  moat 
or  even  of  an  inner  court.  Tlie  loftv  halls  (»})en  to 
the  roof  were  being  superseded  l)y  those  having  a 
withdrawing-room  f >r  the  (|uaHtv  in  their  upper  half: 
and  instead  of  the  l)uilders  name,  or  coat  of  arms, 
and  the  date  l)eino-  above  the  chief  doorwav,  there 
is  a  moral  precept  in  Latin,  and  Latin  mottoes  up  and 
down  the  house. 

A  Thomas  Powell  of  AVhittington  bought  part  of 
the  park  of  the  lordshi[)  of  Whittiugton  whereon  to 
build  himself  a  house  in  1563.  His  family  kept  it  until 
1 717,  when  Sir  Thomas  Charlton  l)Ought  it.  Nearly 
iifty  years  after  it  passed  to  the  Kinchants,  a  familv  of 
Huguenot  descent,  one  of  whom  fell  at  Fontenov  and 
another  at  AVatei'loo.  This  may  l)e  remembered  when 
Ave  read  that  thev  made  the  chapel  into  a  gunroom. 

Li  1870  mortgagees  sold  the  estate  ^^itll  tlie  hall  to 
the  Honourable  Mrs.  Stapleton-Cotton,  who  has  since 
become  Mrs.  A.  Wvnne  Corrie.  and  who  there  resides. 

(Jn  entering  the  hall  one  is  confronted  with  an  enor- 
mous table  surpassing  all  we  have  ever  seen  before. 
Its  top  is  one  plank  of  oak.  twenty-one  feet  long,  four 
feet  broad,  and  two  inches  thick.  Fortunately  it  is 
dated   is^i,  and   in  the  inventorv  of  the  etlects  of  Job 


TilE   PORCH 


330       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD   HOMES 

Charlton  in  1761  it  is  valued  at  two  guineas.  This  is 
a  very  interesting  instance  of  the  great  rise  in  value  of 
good  furniture  of  authentic  date.  I  should  say  its  value 
to-day  would  be  two  hundred  guineas  at  least ;  for 
Moses  and  Aaron  could  not  make  another  like  it  until 
thev  found  and  conveved  an  Enoiisli  oak  with  bole  of 
sufficient  size. 

There  are  records  of  a  far  taller  tree  having:  been 
used  in  the  gatehouse  that  once  stood  before  Park  Hall. 
Oil  its  oaken  beam  were  ten  lines  of  Latin  verse,  extol- 
ling the  beauteous  tree,  cut  down,  alas  I  by  frequent 
strokes,  and  groaning  under  weight  of  stone,  but  once 
sixty  feet  in  stem  without  the  handsome  crest,  "  Sexa- 
ginta  pedes."  It  must  be  true  if  it  was  Latin  cut  into 
the  oak  ;  but  where  are  trees  like  unto  it  nowadays  ( 
If  anvwhere,  this  country  is  the  likeliest  place  to 
find  tliem  ;  ibr  we  are  not  far  from  Lymore  with  its 
wondrous  stairway  and  panelling. 

Some  hio-h-backed  chairs  are  said  to  be  coeval  with 
the  taljle  and  to  have  always  kept  it  company.  They 
are  shown  in  the  reduced  photograph.  Under  the  table 
may  be  seen  one  of  the  old-fashioned  man-traps  that 
Avere  used  to  catch  the  prowling  men  or  wandering- 
children  by  their  legs,  as  we  now  catch  rats,  if  they 
will  go  where  they  are  not  wanted.  There  is  also  a 
cannon  that  Mas  dug  up  at  Marston  Moor,  having  been 
there  buried  and  forgotten.  Here  it  is,  in  the  very 
house  where  Prince  Ptupert  has  also  been.  Another 
relic  of  the  Civil  War  is  the  sword  of  Fairfax  that  was 
used  at  Colchester,  and  a  very  fine  sword  that  was  found 
under  the  floor  of  an  old  shop  in  Oswestry.  There  are 
many  other  arms  and  armour,  l)lunderbusses,  steel-bowled 
crossbow,  guns,  and  pistols  in  variety. 

The  cabinet  that  is  shown  between  the  "  skeletons  " 
in  armoui-  must  l)e  of  enormous  value.  It  is  mostly  of 
tortoise-shell  framed  in  silver  and  ormolu,  inlaid  with 
mosaics    and    ebony,    and    bedecked    with    cameos    and 


MR.   AND   1[RS.    A.    WYNNE   CORRIE  AT   HOME 


334       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

precious  stones.  The  little  statuettes  in  the  interior  are 
of  ivory.  Nothing  is  known  of  it,  beyond  it  appears 
to  be  of  early  Italian  niake  and  was  bought  by  Mrs. 
Corrie's  fatlier.  the  late  Mr.  Fletcher. 

The  chapel  is  the  small  building  that  projects  from 
the  house  on  the  left  corner  (as  you  approach).  It  is 
curious  and  impressive  from  its  dark  oak  and  stained 
glass,  but  impossible  to  photograph.  The  family  pew  is 
a  gallery  enclosed  with  very  massive  balusters.  The 
place  was  consecrated  by  Archl)ishop  Parker,  who  is 
said  by  some  to  be  the  important  and  necessary  link  in 
the  Apostolical  succession  of  the  Anglican  priesthood. 

There  is  a  doorway  in  the  panelhng  of  the  drawing- 
room  that  gives  access  to  the  chaj^el,  and  we  thought 
when  photographing  the  mantelpiece  of  the  drawing- 
room  it  would  be  better  to  have  this  door  open,  hoping 
it  would  let  light  into  a  dark  corner  and  show  some- 
thing of  the  chapel,  but  it  w^as  a  mistake,  as  it  only 
shows  a  patch  of  light. 

The  mantelpiece  has  had  some  changes  in  its  little 
history.  Originally  built  about  1580,  it  is  thought  the 
central  panel  w^as  replaced  by  another  in  1640,  with  a 
shield  of  arms  and  motto,  "  Nee  vi  nee  vento."  The  arms, 
but  not  the  date  and  the  motto,  were  discarded  in  their 
turn  (probably  another  lord  had  arisen),  and  a  French 
clock  w,as  substituted.  Then  burglars  broke  into  the 
house  and  stole  away  the  clock.  It  reappeared  in  a 
pawnbroker's  shop  at  Brighton,  and  was  brought  back 
again,  as  if  to  show  there  was  some  truth  in  the  motto 
thouofh  the  buro-lars  had  not  time  to  a^et  it  translated. 

Behind  this  mantelpiece  and  near  to  the  flue  is 
the  hiding-hole  or  secret  chamber  of  the  house.  Air 
is  admitted  to  it,  or  taken  from  it,  through  the  open 
mouths  of  carved  heads,  for  the  draught  can  now  be 
felt  by  any  one  standing  at  the  fireplace,  and  doubtless 
whispered  words  could  be  heard  and  possibly  susten- 
ance given.     The  access  to  this  hidden  closet  was  from 


PARK    JIALL 


PARK   HALL 


338      PILGKIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

a  cupboard  that  was  opened  by  a  secret  door  in  the 
wall  of  the  room  above.  This  ingenious  arrangement 
reminded  me  of  the  one  at  Pitchford  (described  in  my 
previous  book),  of  which  I  took  very  particular  notice. 
There,  one  square  in  the  panelling  of  a  room  will  slide 
along  if  pushed  in  one  direction,  then  a  bolt  may  be 
withdrawn,  and  a  liidden  door  in  the  panelling  pushed 
back  ;  the  fugitive  can  then  enter  the  little  closet,  and 
when  he  has  shut  the  door  behind  him — and  not  until 
it  is  firmly  shut — can  he  ])ull  up  the  floor  and  let  him- 
self down  to  another  hole  more  secret  still.  If  the 
first  closet  is  discovered,  tlie  second  one  could  not  be 
as  long  as  the  panelled  door  of  the  first  is  pushed  open, 
for  when  open  it  stands  over  the  trap-door  that  gives 
access  to  the  hole  below. 

It  was  very  soon  evident  that  this  fine  old  house 
was  packed  and  crammed  with  treasures  of  all  kinds. 
Furniture,  pictures,  books,  china,  arms,  curiosities,  that 
would  take  days  to  see,  had  to  l)e  simply  glanced  at. 
To  write  anything  like  a  catalogue  is  disagreeable  to 
all  parties,  and  half  the  things  may  be  generally  dis- 
missed, if  only  English  are  noted  :  for  then,  away  go 
all  the  works  of  art  of  China  and  Ja})an,  the  paintings 
of  Italy  and  Holland,  and  the  things  made  in  Germany. 
For  exception,  let  us  take  a  cup  and  spoon  for  poison. 
They  are  very  small,  of  course,  being  cut  from  emeralds, 
and  not  for  use  in  England.  India  was  their  home, 
where  the  Rajah  of  Burdwan  may  have  treated  his 
tired  wives,  or  poor  relations,  to  homreopathic  doses. 

What  a  wonderful  variety  there  is  in  drinking-vessels, 
loving-cups,  peg-tankards,  silver  goblets,  black-jacks,  of 
all  ages,  from  the  Pompeiian  Boar's-liead  cup,  the  old 
English  cut  red  glass,  the  tankard  of  Dymock  the  Cham- 
pion of  the  King,  down  to  puzzle  jugs  or  pewter.  In 
all  times  and  all  places,  men  would  drink  out  of  anything, 
and  with  unquenched  longings  in  their  hearts  preserve 
their  precious  cups  although  their  dregs  were  drained. 


OSWESTKY 


340       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

Crown  Derby,  Nantgarw,  and  Chelsea,  cabinets  of 
china,  we  cannot  stay  to  see  you  now.  Nor  all  these 
pictures  by  the  foreign  masters.  Snyders  is  well  re- 
presented, Vandyck,  Lely,  homely  George  Morland, 
with  multitudes  of  others  ;  the  wealth  of  Lancashire 
is  indeed  being  poured  into  the  treasures  in  this  house. 
Furniture  is  nearly  being  forgotten,  though  there  is 
plenty  of  it,  and  mention  must  be  made  of  one  of  those 
very  old-fashioned  couches  that  were  placed  at  the 
foot  of  the  oak-post  bedsteads.  It  is  thought  they 
were  used  by  servants  or  attendants  on  the  sick,  but 
very  few  are  now  left. 

Trophies  of  the  chase  abound — the  antlered  monarch 
of  the  moor,  and  the  silvery  monarch  of  the  rushing 
river,  a  thirty-six  pounds  salmon ;  also  the  tyrant  of 
the  mere,  a  tremendous  pike,  with  many  other  well- 
set-up  specimens  of  bird  and  l)east,  including  two  of 
the  biofp-est  otters  I  ever  saw.  Mr.  Corrie  has  evi- 
dently  enjoyed  himself,  and  it  is  said  Mrs.  Corrie  can 
wield  a  bio;  salmon-rod  also. 

The  gardens  and  greenhouses  stretch  far  and  wide, 
and  everything  seems  flourishing.  They  grow  their 
own  bananas,  but  evidently  not  for  profit,  as  every 
finger  would  cost  about  a  sov^ereign.  The  variety 
and  quantity  of  fruit  and  roses  would  interest  me 
greatly  if  there  were  time  to  see  them  all,  but  there 
is  not  time,  and  we  must  hurry  to  the  stables,  where 
the  chief  pride  and  pleasure  is.  A  little  shelf  outside 
the  stable  door  always  holds  a  corn  basket  of  sliced 
carrots,  and  the  whinnying  of  the  horses  soon  tells 
an  experienced  ear  that  they  associate  carrots  with 
the  sound  of  a  well-known  ste}).  Most  Englishmen 
like  seeinsr  a'ood  horses  Mell  cared  for.  These  are 
exceptionally  well-fivoured  ones,  and  out  of  fourteen 
carriages  in  one  coach-house  any  one  might  be  suited. 

The  (plaint  little  town  of  Oswestry  is  about  a 
mile  from  Park   Hall,  and  the   "Coach  and  Dogs"  inn 


Y   2 


342       PIL(;lM^rAGES    TO    ()\A)    HOMES 

])V  the  clnirrh  is  part  ot*  the  estate.  The  other  house 
we  ])hotograph  was  the  home  of  a  ])raiu'li  of  the 
Llovd  fimilv.  the  spread  eagle  having  heeii  conferred 
(so  it  is  said)  l)v  the  Duke  of  Austria  on  Maurice 
Llovd  for  his  hraverv  in  a  crusade. 

The  |)hotographer  might  count  the  pictures  tliat 
illustrate  this  chapter,  and  then  consider  that  we  only 
took  our  usual  number  of  })lates,  six  each,  or  twelve 
altoofether,  and  the  day  was  Met  and  dark. 


OLD   CJIAIRS   IN    HALL 


SLADE   HALL 


SLADE  HALL  is  an  old  home  on  the  north-east 
border  of  Didsbury,  that  has  descended  from 
father  to  son  for  ten  generations. 

A  llichard  Syddall,  Siddall,  or  Siidal,  a  yeo- 
man of  Withington,  appears  to  have  prospered,  and 
bv  his  will  in  1558  left  the  lease  of  his  dwelling, 
Mylkewalleslade,  to  his  son  Edward,  on  condition  that 
he,  without  "  coneng  craft  or  gile,"  surrendered  his 
'■  meas*^  and  ten*  in  Diddesburye  "  to  Elizabeth  his  wife. 
His  "  shope  in  M'Keth  strete,  Manchester,"  in  default 
of  Edward's  heirs,  went  to  his  second  son  Tom. 

Li  1584  Edward  bought  Milkwall-Slade,  with  24 
acres  of  land,  garden  and  orchards,  for  ^,10  from 
Kauif  and  Joan  Slade  of  Brerehurst,  doing  fealty  to  the 
lord  of  the  manor.  He  rebuilt  the  house,  his  initials 
in  a  pretty  little  border,  and  the  date  1585  in  another, 
being  now  over  the  door.  His  son  George  apparently 
put  his  mark  on  also,  for  the  initials  G.  S.  are  roughly 
cut  out  of  the  oaken  lintel.  The  entry  of  the  wedding- 
of  George  Siddall  to  Margaret  Fletcher,  1575,  is  still 
in  the  Didsbury  registers.  They  shortened  the  name 
of  the  place  to  Slade,  and  the  natives  pronounce  it 
Slate. 

Li  1 664  Syddall  was  summoned  to  give  an  account 
of  his  arms  and  crest,  but  he  seems  not  to  have  wanted 
any,  probal)ly  thinking  he  could  malve  better  use  of  the 
money. 

Quietly  and  unostentatiously  the  years  and  the  gene- 
rations slipped  away,  son  succeeding  father,  begetting 
children,  and  Ijeing  gathered  to  his  fithers.      In   their 

humdrum  lives  there  seems  little  to  record.      They  had 

343 


344       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

the  tenacity  to  stick  to  tliier  home,  and  that  is  why 
they  are  here.  Now  the  old  home  is  gone  from  them, 
not  yoluntarily  l)ut  by  com})nlsi()n,  for  the  London  and 
North- Western  Railway  Co.,  after  cutting  otl'some  of  the 
land,  has  annexed  the  house.  The  oaken  seats  in  the 
deep  porch  are  daubed  with  paint,  and  oyer  them  is  a 
dado  stencilled  in  the  latest  fashion  of  railway  station 
waiting-rooms.  The  fine  old  door  with  its  hinges  and 
handles  is  still  intact  :  let  us  hope  it  will  escape  im- 
proyements  for  an  inquiry  office.  One  of  the  upper 
rooms  has  yery  elaborate  plaster  work.  There  are  the 
royal  arms  of  Elizabeth,  the  arms  of  the  Stanleys, 
Earls  of  Derby,  and  possibly  those  of  Alderley,  stag- 
hunts,  figures,   &c. 

In  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  I  had  the  temerity  to 
ask  the  present  Mr.  Siddall,  senr.,  what  the  estate 
realised :  for  with  such  a  long  record  tlie  history  of 
its  inevitable  rise  in  yalue  would  l)e  yery  interesting. 
More  than  thirty  years  ago  I  learnt,  and  haye  since 
often  proved,  that  the  value  of  land  doubles  with 
every  generation.  That  is  the  rule,  though  of  course 
there  are  excei)tions  to  all  rules,  and  cycles  of  good 
and  bad  years  at  all  times.  Taking  three  generations 
to  the  century,  the  yalue  of  land  should  increase  eight- 
fold in  a  hundred  years.      Let  us  sum  up  Slade. 

1585. —  /,  10  is  the  price  of  the  estate  of  24  acres, 
with  an  old  house.  In  those  days  a  good  house,  or 
part  of  a  church,  could  be  built  for  ^5,  but  it  will 
be  better  to  ignore  the  house,  for  it  is  only  a  very  old 
one  to-day,  and  it  is  the  value  of  the  hind  that  I  am 
writing  about. 

1685. — ^80  for  the  24  acres  would  be  about  the 
value.  Prices  would  be  improving  after  the  Civil  War, 
when  land  was  inisaleable. 

1785. — ^,640,  or  /^26  an  acre.  A  fair  value  for  land 
in  the  district.  The  Napoleonic  wars  were  to  bring  a 
"great  rise,  and  corresponding  decline. 

1885. — /,'5i20,   or  /, 313   an  acre.     Are  we  getting 


346       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

lost  in  (Geometrical  ProoTession  !*  The  iieia'hbom-iiiu- 
citv  is  rapidly  advancing.  Sites  are  being  songlit  for 
Imilding  on,  the  days  of  farming  are  done,  and  the 
value  is  much  greater  than  here  stated. 

1905. — It  has  all  gone,  and  althongli  not  one 
generation  has  passed  since  our  last  vakiation,  the  price 
has  doubled  again  and  again.  In  ten  generations  the 
original  ,/^  10  has  grown  into  more  than  ^20,000.  There 
were  no  rates  in  the  old  time — now  they  are  always 
advancino;,  and  we  are  told  no  one  can  live  for  them. 
Nine-tenths  of  our  politicians  and  our  inflillible  Press 
(a  capital  P  this  time,  please)  are  constantly  preaching 
and  teaching  of  the  ruin  of  the  country  from  the  rural 
population  Hocking  into  the  towns.  Here,  the  town's 
locusts  have  swarmed  on  to  the  country,  and  in  the 
once  pleasant  gardens  ar.d  orchards  of  Slade  every 
ffreen  leaf  is  witherinp- ;  there  will  not  he  one  blade  of 
grass  left,  for  the  desolating  trail  of  the  railway  and 
the  soulless  builder  of  vulgar  villadom  have  brought 
their  blio-ht  on  all. 

Though  the  elder  line  of  the  Syddals  lived  unevent- 
ful lives,  their  kinsmen  in  Manchester  made  history, 
scruijlino-  not  to  offer  their  lives  as  martyrs  for  their 
kino-  and  country. 

The  wills  of  the  two  earliest  of  the  family  mention 
s.  shop  in  Market  Street  or  Market  Place  that,  in 
■case  of  some  default,  was  to  go  to  their  younger  son 
Thomas.  The  value  of  the  shop  or  l)urgage  was  given 
as  sixpence  a  year,  and  that  would  stand  multiplying 
many  times  when  we  consider  that  some  of  the  shops 
there  now  are  worth  ^1000  a  year.  In  1690  a  "Pole" 
of  Manchester  records  Thomas  Siddall,  Avife  and  son, 
livino;  in  one  of  the  first  houses  in  Market  Sted  Lane, 
and  therefore  by  the  market-place. 

At  the  death  of  Queen  Anne,  1714,  political  and 
religious  strife  was  at  fever  heat.  Were  the  Stuarts  to 
reign,  and  the  risk  to  be  run  of  tlie  coiuitry  shj)ping 
into    Ivoiiiaii     (  atholioism,    or    sliould    a     kino-    be    im- 


Liiiiilll 

.p> 

III  X  J 

9 

^1^ 

* »  ■  lAiJiL 

■  Li 

r  if 

L^  r"^if" 

^^^^^^^^^^^BjBmBjfi 

1  ■  1 
R  ■ 

«■' 
iii 

13 

■  ■■■ 

- ■ mmati  ^  *' 

c:^ 

IP 
■    if. 

B^.. 

SLADE   HALL 


348       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

ported  iroin  Germany,  and  dismal  dissent  to  have  the 
Tipper  hand  '.  In  Manchester  there  were  riots,  and  a 
mob  pulled  down  the  Presbyterian  chapel  (now  the 
Unitarian  chapel  in  Cross  Street)  under  the  leadership 
of  Tom  Svddall.  For  that  he  was  })ut  in  the  pillory, 
and  then  in  the  prison  at  Lancaster. 

The  Stnart  army,  marching  south,  released  all 
prisoners,  and  he  joined  it,  only  to  be  defeated  at 
Preston  and  imprisoned  again.  Then  came  Lancaster's 
'"  Bloody  Assize ''  and  thirty-four  were  hanged,  drawn, 
and  quartered.  Five  of  them  were  done  at  Knot  Mill, 
at  a  cost  of  ^8,  los.,  and  Syddall's  head  was  stuck  up 
in  the  market-place  by  his  own  shop  door. 

There  his  son  Tom  daily  saw  it,  and  doubtless 
vowed,  in  his  boy's  way,  to  be  avenged  if  ever  the 
opportunity  came.  Thirty  years  after,  he  thought  it 
came,  and  hesitated  not  to  Hing  himself  heart  and  soul 
into  raising  a  regiment  in  Manchester,  to  help  Prince 
Charles  Edward  in  his  gallant  attem]3t  to  win  again 
the  crown  of  his  ancestors.  The  ill-fated  regiment 
surrendered  as  prisoners  of  war  at  Carlisle,  on  the 
written  promise  that  they  "  should  not  be  put  to  the 
sword,  but  reserved  for  the  king's  pleasure." 

The  pleasure  of  the  German  king,  who  was  living 
with  his  German  harlots  at  the  ex})ense  of  Englishmen, 
was  that  they  should  be  butchered  :  hanged,  but  not 
until  they  were  dead  ;  cut  open,  their  heart  and  bowels 
cast  into  the  fire  ;  and  their  limbs  distributed. 

Tom  Syddall  died  game.  When  his  turn  for  the 
halter  came,  he  took  a  pinch  of  snufi",  and  hoped  his 
children  saw  him  die.  As  the  hearts  of  each  victim 
were  cast  into  the  fire,  the  hangman  shouted  "God 
save  Kinp-  Georere,"  and  the  Hanoverians  with  the 
Presbyterians  cried,  "  Amen.'" 

They  stuck  his  head  on  the  Manchester  Exchanofe 
near  to  his  own  shop  door,  so  that  his  wife  could  see  it 
from  her  l)edroom,  where  she  was  confined.  Through  all 
the  troul)le  her  sixth  child  came,  and  in  her  turn  became 


THE   SYDDALLS 


349 


a  mother.  Our  precious  mob,  to  celebrate  Culloden, 
broke  the  windows  of  the  widow,  and  frightened  her 
awvay.  The  adherents  of  the  Stuarts  were  all  called 
Papists,  who  would  "'spit,  fire,  burn,  and  roast  alive  all 


heretics,"  when  they  were  only  High  Cliurch  Tories 
who  believed  in  the  right  of  the  king  in  lineal  descent 
to'^reio-n.  If  our  kinoes  are  to  be  elected  — be  it  so,  but 
let -[us  have  Englishmen.  The  dull  depression  of  the 
Georges  weighed  us  down  ibr  generations. 


350       PILOPvIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

"  George  the  First  was  always  reckon'd 
Vile — liut  viler  George  the  Second. 
And  what  mortal  ever  heard 
Any  good  of  George  the  Third  ? 
When  from  earth  the  Fourth  descended, 
Heav'n  be  praised,  the  (leorges  ended." 

Ill  my  "  Diclisbiirye  in  the  '45"  I  have  given  long- 
extracts  from  the  written  statements  deUvered  to  the 
sheriff  by  the  officers,  before  they  were  butchered,  and 
a  copy  of  Hogarth's  picture  of  Temple  Bar  adorned 
with  the  heads  of  Colonel  Townley  and  Captain 
Fletcher,  and  somebodv's  leo-.  It  is  not  unlikelv  that 
leg  would  be  one  of  Syddall's,  for,  as  the  adjutant 
of  the  regiment,  he  had  been  verv  active.  He  was 
descriljed  as  a  little  man  with  a  big  nose  ;  a  peruke 
maker  and  barber  by  occupation,  living  in  his  own 
shop  with  his  wife  and  five  children.  In  those  days  it 
was  the  fashion  to  shave  and  to  wear  wigs. 

There  is  an  entry  in  the  registers  of  Didsbury  that 
I  think  refers  to  our  hero  :  "  Oct.  1730.  Thomas  Siddall 
and  Maria  Fletcher  de  Burnage,  and  paroch  Mancum 
conj  matri  per  License.  Rog.  Bolton  surr."  He  w^ould 
then  be  twentv-five  years  of  age,  and  his  wife  may 
have  been  sister  to  Captain  George  Fletcher,  Avho  was 
a  younger  man  supporting  his  mother.  In  1745,  the 
Court  Leet  records  give  Thomas  Syddall  and  "  Mr. 
George  ffletcher  scavangers,"  or,  as  we  should  now 
term  it,  "  on  the  sanitary  committee."  The  next  year's 
Constables'  Accounts  solemnly  record  an  expenditure 
of  ^oo-oi-o6  for  "tending  the  Sheriff  the  morn 
Syddall's  and  Deacon's  heads  put  up."' 

Whether  any  of  Syddall's  sons  grew^  up  and  left 
sons  I  have  nev^er  learnt.  It  is  affectinof  to  read  in  his 
last  address  how  he  thanked  God  for  the  exam])le  of  an 
honest  father,  and  prayed  that  his  children  might  tread 
the  same  dangerous  steps,  and  "  also  have  the  courage 
and  constancy  to  endure  to  the  end,  and  despise  Human 
Power  when  it  stands  opposed  to  Duty." 

( 'olonel   Townlev's  skull    I   li;i\'e  liaiidlcd   from  under 


REBEL   OK   MARTYR? 


OD 


the  altar  of  the  chapel  in  Townlev  Hall,  where  it  \Yas 
long  preserved.  A  Captain  Moss  was  one  of  the  officers, 
hut  with  the  lielp  of  money,  tools,  and  friends,  he  got 
out  of  Newo-ate  with  his  friend  Holker,  and  fled  to 
France.  I  remember  an  old  man  at  Didsbury  named 
Oeorge  Fletcher,  who  was  christened  nfter  his  uncle 
the  "  Rebel,"  and  it  was  whispered  he  was  a  rebel  at 
heart,  for  he  was  a  Chartist  and  a  Radical.  Jacobite 
Tories  and  Jaco1)iii  Radicals  got  mixed  in  the  vulgar 
mind,  1)ut  to  call  a  man  a  Rebel,  and  prophesy  he 
would  oet  "  bowelled,"  was  somethino-  verv  terrible.  To 
speak  of  him  as  a  Martyr  would  be  to  court  ostracism, 
and  the  brand  of  a  madman  or  a  dangerous  Papist. 

As  an  instance  of  two  memories  covering  the  hundred 
and  fifty  years  after  the  famous  '45,  my  great-grand- 
mother, Nancy  Fletcher,  was  born  in  1729,  remembered 
it,  and  was  remembered  by  my  mother  up  to  1900. 


GREAT-GRANDMOTJIER    XAXCY    FLETCHER 


THE   RIDDINGS 

ANOTHER  timeworn  home,  around  whose  moulder- 
/  \        ing    Avails    stagnates    a  slimy   moat,  lies   four 
/     \      miles    to    the    west    of    mine.       Britons    may 
have  named  it  from  their  word  for  ford  being" 
I'liijd,    or     Anglo-Saxons    from    their     ridding    up     the 
forest    primeval.       The    earliest    lords    we    know    show 
in   their  names   their   Norman  descent :  Yawdreys  and 
Gerards  are  not  uncommon  names  in  Cheshire  history. 
But  who  cares  for  history  now  ?     Shrieking  trains  whiz 
close  past  the  once-fortified  home  whose  glories  have  de- 
parted.   Suburban  villas,  semi-detached  and  semi-genteel^ 
spring  up  like  toadstools  along  its  dirty  lane.     The  new- 
tangled  folk  from  them  say  the  water  round  the  house 
must  be  unhealthy — the  farmer  says  it's  good  enough  to 
wash  the  'taties  and  the  onions  for  them  to  buy. 


THE    RIDJJINUS 

352 


THE   EIDDINGS 


—    « 


THE    PLOWSHARK    RUSTS 


A    CHESHIRE    LANE 


SPORT 

A   S    the    chief  sport    of   all    ranks   of   our   fithers  was 

/\        cock-fighting,   it  seems  to   me  that   also   might  be 

/     \      illustrated    with    their    homes ;     for    although    the 

rulers    of  England   forbid   their  subjects   watching 

cocks    fight,    they    spend    vast    sums    in    teaching    them    to 

fight  their   fellow-Christians,   and   the   cocks   have  to   enjoy 

themselves  on  the  quiet  when  they  can.      A  good  cock  loves 

a  fight  above  all  things,  and  will  leave  all  things  for  it.     Old 

proverbs  tell  us  a  good  cock  may  come  out  of  a  poor  bag 

— meaning,  you  should  not  judge  a  man  by  his  clothes,  and 

to  live  like  a  fighting-cock  is  the  ideal  bliss  of  many. 

Themistocles  roused  the  Athenians  to  a  desperate  defence 
of  their  homes  by  showing  them  cocks  fighting  in  the 
market-place  of  Athens,  who  fought  to  the  last,  though  not 
for  country,  home,  or  children.  Here  the  camera  shows 
what  happens  to  the  herald  of  the  morn  when  he  goes 
what  old-fashioned  folk  call  neiefbhourino^. 


.^(a«.v'ji^£'v» , 


WHO    ARK    VOU  ? 


MIND    YOURSELF ! 


HA BET  I 


Z   2 


CHAIR   AND   SCREEN   AT   ABNEY   HALL 


In  1873  X  bought  the  chair  for  nine  .sliiranais  at  a  sale  at  ('headle  Rectory.  It  is  now  valued 
at  £=,0.  The  screen  of  soliil  oak  came  from  a  shoji  in  'Jaunton  tliat  was  once  a  house  of  Lord 
Portman's.    It  is  said  to  have  come  from  the  Priory  Cliurch  that  was  destroyed  c.  1600. 


The  bird  of  wisdom  sits  in  the  tower,  watching  over  the  home  of  X  to  give 
warning  of  any  plague  that  might  come  nigh  his  dwellino-. 


THE   OLD   PARSONAGE,   DIDSBURY 


IN  tlie  days  when  Didsbury  Wakes  was  the  great 
festival  of  the  many  acred  townships  to  the  south 
of  Manchester,  the  rush -cart  was  made  where  the 

rushes  and  the  withies  grew  at  Withington,  and  on 
St.  Oswald's  day  was  escorted  by  dancing  and  singing 
men,  as  if  it  were  the  ark  of  the  Lord,  to  the  old  church 
at  Didsbury.  Then  came  a  week  of  hospitality,  feasting, 
and  revelry — unbridled  revelry.  The  church  stood  high 
above  the  marshlands  of  the  Mersey,  surrounded  with 
black-and-white  houses,  common  land,  shooting-butts 
for  archery,  and  the  two  inns  so  necessary  in  a  large 
and  straggling  parish. 

Everything  is  gone  excepting  some  bits  of  the 
church,  of  the  inns,  and  possibly  of  this  house  of  which 
and  in  which  I  now  write.  The  Wakes  are  nearly 
forgotten,  the  green  is  long  since  enclosed,  the  roads 
are  narrowed,  the  last  thatched  farmstead  has  lately 
vanished.  There  are  two  inns,  though  the  sign  of 
"The  Kino-  o'  Bells"  is  crone.  He  who  from  the  main 
road  would  go  to  cliurch  must  pass  between  them,  and 
tlierefore  when  what  is  sometimes  called  the  Gospel  is 
being  preached,  they  are  likened  to  "  The  Gates  of 
Hell,"  and  lament  is  made  that  they  are  left  to  temj^t 
the  sinner  from  tlie  path  of  duty  to  the  church  and 
the  collection. 

Over  the  stables  of  the  Cock  Lui,  and  extending 
into  this  liouse,  is  a  large  upper  room  called  The  Wakes 
Koom,  but  why  the  inn  and  the  parsonage  sliould  overlap 
and  have  bricked-u|i  doorways,  I,  the  owner,  never  could 


1 


5         «« 


O       ^ 


o 


62       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD    H(3MES 


understand.  There  were  more  connections  between 
Church  authorities  and  alehouses  wlien  church-ales  were 
common  ;  and  our  pilgrimages,  as  recorded  in  this  book, 
have  shown  us  inns  or  hostels  that  were  built  and 
maintained  out   of  abbey  funds. 

In  the  time  of  the  Commonwealth  there  was  an 
agreement  made  between  the  inhabitants  of  the 
parish,  or  ]jarochiall  chapelrye,  of  Didisburye,  and  their 
minister,  Mr.  Thomas  Clayton,  from  which  I  make  the 
followinG:  extract  : — 

"'  Item.  That  the  mesuage  and  tenem'^  assigned 
to  the  use  of  the  minister  of  the  said  church,  for  the 
tyme  beinge,  shall  bee  valued  and  acompted  at  the 
rate  of  tenne  pounds  p.  ann,  (towards  the  said  xl^ 
p.  ann.)  consiclringe  the  tymes  and  that  Mr.  Clayton 
is  a  single  man  and  soe  cannot  husband  it  to  ad- 
vantage.' 

The  above-mentioned  house  is  probably  the  central 
part  of  this  old  parsonage.  The  rates  alone  are  now 
many  times  the  former  rental ;  in  fact,  they  would 
take  all  the  poor  man's  /40  of  income:  so  let  us 
consider  the  times  and  be  sorry  for  the  tenant  and 
owner,  who  is  still  single  and  "soe  cannot  husband  it 
to  advantage." 

The  ancient  history  of  the  place  is  lost  because 
there  are  no  very  old  deeds  to  any  property  in  Dids- 
bury.  Even  the  Mosley  family,  who  bought  the  manors 
of  Manchester  and  Withington  about  1  596,  have  none. 
The  title  to  this  place  begins  with  an  Act  of  Parliament 
of  1786  re  the  estates  of  the  Bamfords  of  Bamford, 
who  had  inherited  some  (this  being  probably  a  part) 
from  a  John  L^avenport  of  Stockport.  The  Act  cost 
William  Bamford  ^550,  and  to  raise  that  sum  he  sold 
for  it  "All  that  antient  messuage  or  inn  known  by  the 
sign  of  the  Cock,  with  the  barn  and  shippen  thereunto 
belonging  .  .  .  with  three  other  small  antient  messuages 
or  dwelling-houses  adjoining  .   .  .   orchards,  garden,  and 


THE    OLD    PARSONAGE  :;6 


O^J 


vacant  land,"  to  Sam  Bethell,  a  joiner,  to  repair  or  erect 
better  buildings  and  pay  a  small  chief  rent,  which  rent 
I  now  pay  to  the  Countess  of  Dundonald,  who  inherited 
the  Bamford-Hesketh  estates.  Bethell  paid  the  ^550 
in  1795,  and  one  Sam  Newell,  probably  a  lawyer,  wit- 
nessed. The  Cock  Inn  and  adjoining  shop  would  then 
be  built,  for  the  former  "  antient "  buildings  were  timber 
framed  and  thatched.  In  [804  Bethell  sold  out  for 
^1250,  the  buyer  mortgaging  for  ^1000.  The  mort- 
gage deed  consists  of  live  big  skins  of  parchment,  though 
the  original  deed  of  conveyance  was  only  one  smaller 
skin.  A  mortgage  bond  for  ^2000  was  also  given, 
though  he  had  only  received  ^1000,  so  we  may  conclude 
the  poor  man  fell  among  lawyers,  who  stripped  him, 
leaving  him  half  dead.  They  also  altered  the  spelling 
of  "  antient  shippen  "  to  "  ancient  shippon." 

In  1832  the  property  was  sold  for  ^2450,  so  it  had 
doul)led  in  value  again,  and  up  to  the  present  time  I 
find  it  has  doubled  witli  every  generation.  I  have 
known  many  instances  in  our  city  and  neighbourhood 
where  the  value  of  land  has  doubled  w^ith  each 
generation ;  that  is,  it  has  gone  up  eightfold  in  the 
century. 

In  1832  a  Bichard  Fletcher  of  Birch  Hall  found 
^2000,  and  a  William  Newall,  a  grocer,  ^450,  for  the 
purchase  of  this  property.  They  sold  to  Louisa  Titley, 
who  made  it  over  to  trustees,  for  a  marriage  "  is  in- 
tended to  be  had  and  solemnised  "  between  her  and  the 
Reverend  Sam  Newall,  curate  of  Didsbury  and  in  the 
occupation  of  the  house.  They  were  married,  the 
young  wife  soon  died,  the  flock  gossiped,  the  parson 
left,  but  he  or  his  kept  the  property  though  they 
sold  the  advowson  of  the  living.  As  the  house  was 
haunted,  and  the  new  parson  was  always  quarrelling 
with  his  landlord  (the  old  one),  a  new  rectory  was  built 
far  away  from  the  church  about  the  time  the  old  parish 
or  parochial  chapelry  of  Didsbury  with  its  four  rapidly 


364       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD    HOMES 

increasing  townshi})S  was  joined  ecclesiastically  to 
Manchester.  The  patronage  of  the  small  and  select  bit 
of  parish  left  w  ith  the  old  churcli  was   kept   in  private 


DOOKWAY   TO   THE   OLD   PARSONAGE,   SHOWING   THE   CHURCH 
AND   THE   LYCHGATE 


hands,  and  the  "cure  of  souls'"  advertised.  Perhaps 
this  open  traffic  in  the  curing  of  our  souls  has  not  been 
for  the  good  or  the  peace  of  the  shorn  flock  during  the 
last  two  centuries.     It  Avas  always  likened  to  the  curing 


THE   (3LD   PARSONAGE  365 

of  bacon,  but  nowadays  few  care  and  very  few  seem  to 
know  how  to  cure  souls  or  bacon. 


DEUS    PROVIDEBIT 


Parson  Xewall  repaired  the  parsonage  house  and 
added  the  two  higher  rooms  at  the  ends.  He  also 
planted  the  weeping  ash  on  the  lawn,  about  1840.  The 
lime  trees  to  the  east  were  put  in  about  1830.  Only  a 
few  of  the  old  trees  remain.  Forest  trees  ofrew  all 
round  the  garden,  but  I  cut  down  one  every  winter, 
and  at  every  fall  the  neighbours  howled.  There  is 
a  very  old  filbert  close  to  the  house  that  bears  nuts 
every  year,  and  very  good  ones  they  are.  A  Keswick 
apple  also  drops  its  fruit  on  to  the  lawn,  for  we  never 
gather  them,  but  eat  them  off  the  grass,  if  the  birds  or 
choir-boys  leave  any. 

On  March  8,  1865,  we  became  tenants  of  the  house. 
It  had  been  empty  for  some  time,  the  gardens  were 
overoTown  with  fruit  trees,  and  we  were  told  it  was 
very  desirable  to  shut  out  the  churchyard.  As  we  had 
onlv  flitted  from  the  next  house  we  brouo^ht  manv  larg-e 
evergreens  with  us,  and  elsewhere  I  have  kept  records 
of  some  of  these  trees  and  also  of  others  planted  in 
later  years.  The  yews  and  the  cedars  of  Lebanon  are 
all  measured.  The  apple  trees  are  being  choked  by 
mistletoe,  though  it  never  grew  in  this  district  before 
I  sowed   its  Ijerries  here.      At  the  present    time   there 


366       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

are  bamboos,  pabiis,  and  camelbas  iiourisliiiig  in  tbe 
open  ah\  for  tbe  bouse  is  on  a  bank  of  good  gra-vel, 
every  room  faces  soutb-south-west,  tbe  warmest  as- 
pect it  could  bave,  as  tbe  sun  sbines  straight  in  soon 
after  one  o'cb:)ck.  It  stands  125  feet  above  tbe  level 
of  tbe  sea,  in  longitude  2.15.30  west,  and  therefore 
its  s(^lar  time  is  nearly  ten  minutes  later  than  that 
of  Greenwich. 

As  a  haunted  bouse  tbe  place  was  famous.  There 
were  shutters  or  iron  bars  to  every  window,  but  they 
did  not  keep  out  the  ghosts.  Servants  would  not  stay 
when  the  bells  were  often  rung:  at  all  hours  and  tbe 
nightly  noises  were  incessant.  Tbe  parsons  should 
have  laid  the  ghosts  wlien  they  lived  here,  but 
they  didn't ;  the  ghosts  abode,  tbe  parsons  lied.  We 
became  used  to  them,  possibly  preferring  them  to 
the  others.  The  wise  mother  told  us  they  would  not 
hurt  us  if  we  were  good  and  quiet,  but  as  a  young  man 
I  have  often  jumped  out  of  bed  and  rushed  after  some- 
thing in  the  passages  or  on  tbe  stairs  and  caught — 
nothing,  although  that  notliing  could  be  plainly  heard 
and  seen. 

"  We  meet  them  at  the  doorway,  on  the  stair, 
Along  the  passages  they  come  and  go, 
Impalpable  impressions  on  the  air, 

A  sense  of  something  moving  to  and  fro." 

A  fuller  account  of  these  ffbosts  is  in  mv  book  on 
"  Folk-lore."  I  will  here  mention  only  the  two  instances 
where  I  discovered  the  cause  of  tbe  disturbance  ;  there 
were  hundreds  of  others  that  never  were  discovered. 
One  nio-bt  mv  mother  awoke  me  to  sav  tbe  noises  in 
her  bedroom  were  terrible.  Hastily  putting  on  some 
clothes  I  sat  bv  her  bedside  to  await  events.  It  was 
a  dark  and  windv  nio-bt.  Soon  and  suddeulv  there 
came  a  wild  whirling  shriek  tbat  died  away  in  jerks  as 
if  some  one  was  bavin o-  liis  tln^jat  cut  slowlv.      It  was 


J 


68       PILGRIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 


a  blood-curdler  ;  but  all  went  still  again.  I  could  find 
nothing.  A  little  more  dai'kness,  and  again  came  the 
horrible  wail.  This  time  it  was  distinctly  from  the 
wnndow.  Was  it  devil,  ghost,  or  madman  (  At  last 
I  found  it :  a  cracked  pane  of  glass,  with  a  bit  shaped 
like  an  isosceles  triangle  wdiose  equal  sides  were  about 
nine  inches  long  on  a  base  of  an  inch,  tha  vibrated 
in  a  gust  of  wind  with  a  wailing  noise  like  an  ^Eolian 
harp  in  an  epileptic  fit. 

The  other  is  a  more  prosaic  tale.  I  rusbed  out  one 
nip'ht  and  collared  a  man  in  the  bushes  who  had  made 
noises  at  the  window.  It  was  the  village  constable  wdio 
wished  to  see  tbe  cook  and  try  if  the  windows  were 
securely  fastened.  Unfortunately  for  him  they  were 
fastened,  but  we  had  killed  a  pig  (or  something),  and 
he  wished  to  know  about  the  disposal  of  the  body.  In 
a  little  while  tlie  cook  and  the  constable  were  wed, 
brought  us  their  pledges  of  love  to  see,  and  "lived 
happy  ever  after." 

The  reader  may  say  the  other  ghosts  were  only 
imagination,  the  product  of  an  evil  conscience,  or  too 
much  supper,  or  rats ;  but  these  sceptics  should  have 
seen  our  friends  and  guardians,  the  dogs.  They  never 
became  used  to  the  ghosts  as  we  did,  and  were  a 
nuisance  in  their  attempts  to  catch  them.  They 
would  stare  at  vacancy,  growl  savagely,  and  with 
bristles  up  go  for  w^hat  they  saw  or  thought  they 
saw,  perhaps  stopping  suddenly  and  scratching  at  the 
carpet  where  they  thought  something  had  gone  below. 
The  Gomers,  father  and  son,  whose  chief  delight  it 
was  to  worry  rats  or  anything  in  fur,  would  sit  down 
to  howl  when  the  church-bells  rang,  as  if  tliey  knew 
that  church-bells  rang  to  frighten  evil  spirits,  and 
those  uncanny  things  they  could  not  fasten  with  their 
teeth. 

Round  the  ruins  of  the  clerk's  house,  which  stood 
with    its   Imck   to   this  liouse,  and  had  been  used  as  a 


GHOSTS 


369 


school  and  a  smithy,  are  remnants  of  many  gravestones 
with  inscriptions  on  them,  saying,  "  Here  Hes  the  l)ody 

of   ,"    when    it    is    evident    the    stones    have   been 

shuffled     al>out,    and    some    there    are    who    say    that 
accounts  for  the  ghosts  who  have  got  lost. 


GOMER   THE   SECOND 


All  the  original  timber-framed  houses  that  stood 
around  the  church  are  now  gone,  though  this  one 
under  the  stucco  has  many  timbers  in  tlie  walls,  and 
I  had  thouoht  of  restorinp-  it  as  a  black-and-wliite 
house,  but  tlie  straiijht  roof  and  additions  of  Newall 
could  not  be  made  in  accordance.  Our  stable  and 
stable-yard  are  on  the  site  of  the  skittle-alley  of  the 
Cock  Inn. 

2  A 


THE   EAGLE    DOOinVAY 


THE   CRADLE   OF   THE   MOSSES 


6/ 


The  Eay-le  doorway  was  erected  in  1902.  It  bad 
been  the  front  door  of  the  Spread  Eagle  Hotel,  part 
of  the  family  property  in  Hanging  Ditch  and  Cor- 
poration Street,  Manchester,  that  was  taken  by  the 
corporatioii  (under  arbitration)  for  the  widening  of 
those  streets.  When  the  buildings  were  being  pulled 
down  I  bought  the  doorway  as  it  stood  for  £\o^ 
thinkino-  it  was  a  o-oocl  baro-ain  and  a  nice  memejito 
of  the  old  place.  But  it  cost  me  nearly  twice  the 
money  to  haye  it  carted  to  Didsbury,  and  about  six 
times  as  much  to  erect  it  again.  Tlien  professional 
builders  came  to  scoff,  sayincr  they  C(juld  erect  me 
genteel  yillas  in  the  garden  to  pay  ten  per  cent.,  with 
less  trouble  than  that  thing. 

As  this  house  is  full  of  old  furniture,  china,  pictures, 
&c.,  it  is  well  for  me  to  leaye  some  record  of  what  may 
be  interestino-  to  tliose  wdio  come  after.  First,  let  us 
take  the  cradle,  for  female  yisitors  generally  ask  what 
that  is.  I  haye  to  explain  that  for  generations  it  was 
the  cradle  of  the  Moss  family,  who  were  not  reared  with 
a  bottle,  but  made  to  walk  when  they  had  liyed  a  year, 
and  make  room  for  baby.  When  I  first  saw  this  cradle 
it  was  in  a  pigeon-cote  at  Walford,  not  being  allowed 
in  the  house,  lor  my  aunt  said  she  had  had  smallpox 
in  it,  ninety  odd  years  before.  The  top  was  broken, 
Ijut  that  I  renewed  with  "  Mos  of  Meos "  inscribed 
thereon.  The  letters  are  copied  from  a  manuscript  of 
King  Alfred  which  may  be  older  than  the  oak  of  the 
cradle.  Meos  is  the  Anglo-Saxon  for  moss,  and  it 
became  Moss  in  the  name  of  the  man  and  Mees  or 
Meece  in  the  name  of  the  place. 

In  the  Domesday  survey  the  place  name  is  spelt 
Mess,  and  in  a  Court  roll  of  the  Stafford  Assize, 
A.D.  1278,  William  del  Mos  is  sometimes  spelt  del 
Mes.  It  was  about  that  time  surnames  came  into 
common  use,  and  if  men  owned  land  they  were  called 
after  it. 


372       PILGRIMAGES   TO   OLD   HOMES 

Some  of  the  Barlow  stall-ends  that  stand  around 
the  entrance  are  shown  In  the  picture  of  the  stairs. 
Thev  are  three  inches  thick,  of  solid  Eno-lish  oak,  well 


THE   OLD   STAIRCASE 


carved.  The  old  staircase  is  so  uarrowed  with  them 
that  X  anticipates  the  day  when  they  will  have  to 
up-end  my  coliin. 

The   front   door   is   a   new  one,  made  from   massive 
oak    that   formed    shelves    in    the   dairy   of  the    Broad 


A   VERY   GOTHIC   DOOR 


173 


Oak  Farm  ;  the  design  of  the  Gothic  tracery  came 
from  Glastonbury,  and  the  stained  jjlass  from  that  in 
the  turrets  at  Bur   Farm   (page    196).     The  knocker  1 


PORCJI    AND    FRONT    DOOR 


cut  out  of  an  oak  growing  in  my  field,  and  fashioned 
it  on  a  smaller  scale  after  the  knocker  on  the  oldest 
door  at  Dunster  Castle. 

The  grandfather's  clocks  in  the  hall  and  the  kitchen, 


2   A   2 


374       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

with  some  of  the  Chippendale  ciiairs,  had  been  in 
Standon  Hall  from  time  immemorial.  There  are  some 
curious  chairs,  apparently  made  of  black  balls,  that 
also  came  from  there.  My  uncle  gave  three  shillings 
and  sixpence  each  for  them,  about  1843,  at  a  sale  at 
Charnes  Hall.  They  used  them  every  day  for  more 
than  fifty  years,  when  I  gave  seven  and  sixpence  for 


them.  Experts  differ  as  to  the  wood,  which  is  said 
to  be  birch,  beech,  pear,  cherry,  &c.  A  bedstead, 
with  posts  inlaid  with  brass,  came  from  the  same  sale 
at  Charnes. 

Since  mentioninor  some  fine  old  chairs  in  mv  last 
book  (a  photograph  of  one  is  on  page  ^yS),  I  have 
been  told  that  the  set  of  eighteen  that  were  like 
them,  and  sold  at  the  sale  at  Heaton  Hall  (the  Earl 
of  Wilton's)  to  a  furniture  dealer,  were  resold  to  go 
to  Chicago  for  a  thousand  guineas.  Mine  have  been 
in    Didsbury    for  a  century.      They   were    bought    in    a 


OLD   FURNITURE 


O/  D 


thatched    cottage    for    the    price    asked,    namely,    ten 
shilhngs  each. 

All  the  very  good  mahogany  furniture  and  the 
silver  were  hought  by  my  parents  when  they  married 
in  1835.  There  are  some  j^lain  Sheraton  chairs  that 
were  my  grandfather's,  and  family  portraits  of  four 
generations.  The  copy  of  a  painting  by  C.  Towne, 
about  1830,  of  a  favourite  horse  and  dog,  is  interesting 
in  showing  the  fashion  in  those  animals  at  that  date. 


My  mother  had  always  taken  great  care  of  the 
china,  glass,  and  silver,  as  she  did  of  us  and  every- 
thing else,  and  many  things  had  never  seen  daylight 
for  years  before  she  went.  Nearly  all  the  china  is 
without  mark,  and  therefore  to  "father"'  it  correctly 
I  took  specimens  to  the  chief  makers.  Knowing  that 
some  of  it  was  Minton's,  I  went  there  first  with  four 
plates  of  different  sets.  One  of  the  firm  and  the 
manager  took  me  to  a  very  old  servant,  who  at  once 
recognised  two  of  the  four,  saving  that  "  old  Tommy 
Steele  painted  them  flowers "  on  tlie  dessert-service, 
and  as  Steele  was  a  famous  painter  of  fruit  and 
flowers  whose  last  years  were  spent  at  Minton's,  the 
value    of   those    plates    went    up.       Tlie    dinner-service 


3;6       PILGEIMAGES   TO    OLD   HOMES 

that  is  shown  round  the  room  on  pages  Tf^S  and  379 
thev  knew  as  the  cuckoo  pattern  ;  but  they  also  knew 
that  they  had  never  made  that  ware  since  1848. 
Gradnallv  I  gathered  that  my  father  had  bought 
both  services  with  three  vases  from  Minton's  about 
1841. 

The  history  of  the  Oriental  cliina  that  is  here 
photographed  is  still  more  interesting.  The  tea-service 
has  never  been  bought,  or  sold,  or  used,  since  1775, 
when  it  was  used  at  the  christenino-  of  a  child 
who  in  time  became  the  wife  of  Dr.  Astbury,  who 
lived  at  Trentham,  probably  one  of  the  family  of 
potters,  and  died  about  1850,  nearly  a  hundred  years 
old.  He  gave  it  to  an  elder  sister  of  my  father, 
who  had  taken  care  of  him  in  liis  old  age.  She 
gave  it  to  my  mother,  and  here  it  still  is.  It  is  in 
the  bottom  of  the  corner  cupboard.  On  the  shelf 
above  is  a  coffee-pot,  which,  with  a  silver  one  of  great 
age,  shown  on  page  27 ^-i  ^^'^^  given  to  my  mother  on 
her  wedding  by  her  brother-in-law,  Charles  Bradbury, 
a  well-known  collector  of  curiosities  and  antiquities. 
He  also  bought  for  her,  with  other  fine  china,  the 
vases  that  are  with  the  coffee  -  pot.  They  were 
bought  at  the  sale  by  auction  of  the  collection  of 
Burdekin,  the  managing  director  of  the  bankrupt 
Bank  of  Manchester,  about  1842.  They  are  of  won- 
derful colours,  representing  the  five-clawed  dragon  of 
the  Emperor  of  China.  A  self-sufficient  connoisseur 
lately  told  me  that  if  it  would  not  hurt  my  feelings 
he  could  tell  me  all  aljout  them.  I  replied  that  my 
feelings  had  long  since  been  seared  into  callousness. 
Then  he  explained  how  a  china  Avorks  had  been  set 
up  at  Hong  Kong  or  thereabouts  ten  years  ago,  and 
the  emjieror's  mark,  or  any  other  mark,  was  boldly 
forged,  and  these  vases  were  modern  forgeries.  As 
my  memory  could  recall  them  for  more  than  fifty 
years,    tlie   tale   was  amusing.      There  are  also   ginger- 


OLD   CHINA 


oil 


jars   with    the  orighial   Uds  that   came    from   the    same 
sale,  decorated  with  the  live-clawed  drau-on. 


VERY    FINE    OLU    CHINESE    CHINA 


On  the  middle  shelf  in  the  corner  cupboard  on  the 
other  side  of  the  room  are  Ihie  china  statues  of  two  men 
preaching.  John  Wesley  is  plainly  one  of  them  ;  the 
other  was   said   to   be  Rowland   Hill,      On   the    bottom 


CORNERS   OF"   THE   LIBRARY 


AT   THE   OLD    PARSONAGE 


3 


So      PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 


shelf  is  an  old  silver  cup  that  once  was  probably  a 
chalice,  and  on  either  side  are  grandmother's  tea- 
caddies  in  ivory,  a'old,  and  tortoise-shell. 

Below  the  cupboard  is  a  curious  tray  dating  from 
mv  mother's  wedding,  silver  tea-service  and  a  tankard 
of  mv  grandfathers'  to  the  left.  On  the  right  is  a 
gate-legged  table  of  English  walnut,  having  legs  cut 
in  double  spiral,  and  on  it  is  a  big  copy  of  "  the 
vinegar"  Bible,  with  my  grandfathers'  ale-jugs  and 
glasses  resting  thereon.  I  hesitated  to  put  them  on 
the  Bible  to  be  photographed,  but  X  soon  repeated  the 
old  saying  about  beer  and  the  Bible  supporting  one 
another  in  the  political  world,  and  as  even  the  per- 
fume had  departed  we  let  them  rest.  These  ale-jugs 
have  the  name  or  arms  of  my  grandfathers,  and  the 
dates  on  them. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  room,  the  family  cradle 
of  the  Mosses,  containing  the  family  Bible  of  Joseph 
and  Mary  Fletcher,  1797,  is  in  front  of  a  chest,  made 
from  Didsbury  oak,  by  a  man  named  Savage,  about 
1770,  for  Birch  of  the  Milngate,  Didsbury.  The  centre- 
piece on  the  chest  is  a  soup  tureen  marked  Brameld, 
who  ^vas  a  noted  potter ;  it  is  one  of  the  few  sur- 
vivors of  a  dinner-service.  There  are  some  very  old 
jugs  and  a  beautiful  little  teapot  in  front  that  was 
my  great  -  grandmother's.  The  dessert-service  to  the 
right  is  of  Coalport  make  ;  it  was  bought  by  an  uncle 
about    1S30. 

Connoisseurs  in  china  will  be  amused  with  the 
following  little  tale  of  some  china.  Twenty  odd  years 
ago,  some  hundreds  of  plates,  with  other  furniture, 
were  bought  for  the  Spread  Eagle  Hotel,  at  a  sale 
by  auction  of  the  contents  of  the  Palatine  Hotel, 
Manchester.  When  the  former  hotel  liad  to  come 
down  for  tlie  widening  of  the  streets  on  both  sides  of 
it,  I  had  to  buy  out  the  tenant,  and  have  a  hurried 
sale    of   the    contents,    without    reserve.       With    other 


382       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

things  that  I  took  home  were  some  china  dessert 
plates  that  had  come  from  the  Palatine  Hotel.  Some 
months  after  I  showed  them  to  a  well-known  expert 
who  was  looking  over  my  things,  and  asked  him  what 
they  were,  as  there  was  no  mark  on  them.  He  said 
they  would  he  imitation  Dresden  china,  made  many 
years  ago  at  Coalport,  and  worth  ten  shillings  each. 
About  two  hundred  of  them  had  been  sold  at  the 
sale  of  the  contents  of  the  Spread  Eagle  at  rather 
less  than  a  penny  each. 

There  is  a  o^ood  deal  of  silver  and  cut  grlass  in 
the  house,  that,  like  the  furniture,  has  been  in  con- 
stant use  for  seventy  years,  and  is  little  or  none 
the  worse  for  wear.  Some  of  it  is  older  still,  and 
special  mention  might  be  made  of  a  grand  wardrobe, 
and  chest  of  drawers  that  in  1829  came  from  what  is 
now  the  Wesleyan  College,  and  a  set  of  plain  chairs 
that  were  made  for  the  "  new"  Cock  Inn  about  1800. 

If  I  were  to  Avrite  the  history  of  half  the  things 
in  the  house,  or  of  the  plants  and  trees  in  the 
garden  or  field,  this  chapter  would  be  sadly  too 
long  :  it  is  better  to  record  in  a  few  brief  notes  the 
changed  conditions  of  life  in  the  neighbourhood  from 
what  they  were  in  the  days  of  my  childhood.  In 
Didsbury  then  there  were  no  railways,  no  trams,  no 
gas,  no  electric  lights,  no  town's  water,  no  sewers,  no 
resident  policemen  or  lawyers,  and  we  were  happy. 
There  was  one  doctor,  who  struggled  with  poverty, 
while  we  and  the  neighbours  drank  the  water  from 
the  holy  well  by  the  churchyard,  and  flourished  to  a 
green  old  age.  It  was  said  to  be  wicked  to  forestall 
the  Almighty,  and  waste  water  by  watering  the  roads. 
If  the  ladies  went  to  parties  at  night  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, we  carried  lanterns  and  sticks.  We  rode  on 
horseback  or  walked  to  business  in  town.  On  many 
a  winter's  morning  have  my  brother  and  I  walked  the 
nearly  six  miles  to  Hanging  Ditch  in  an  hour. 


CHURCHWARDENS 


j"o 


Our  public  aftairs  were  mostly  meddled  with  and 
muddled  by  churchwardens,  who  were  chosen  at  the 
annual  vestry.  More  than  thirty  years  ago  I  was 
chosen  to  be  one  of  them,  and  I  strutted  about  with  a 
long  knobbed   staff,   inspecting  the  roads  and  the  ale- 


PART    OF    THE    FAMILY,    1S5I 

The  dog.  Juke,  bad  broken  liis  leg  by  falling  fiom  a  wheat-riek  after  a  rat. 


houses,  while  the  dull  church  service  was  drao-o-ing^ 
its  slow  length  along,  from  psalms  in  dismal  duet  to 
black-gowned  terrific  denunciation  of  sin,  mingled  with 
gloatings  over  the  everlasting  torments  that  are  in  store 
for  the  damned.  As  "  consayted  "  as  a  churchwarden 
had  long  since  passed  into  a  proverb,  and  the  passer- 
by would  scoff*  when  told  it  was  not  lawful  for  him  to 


3S4       PILGRIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 

absent  himself  from  cliiircli.  ('hurch  rates  were  abol- 
ished and  new-fangled  powers  s|)ringing  n\).  It  was 
common  talk  that  if  the  liadicals  got;  their  way  rates 
would  be  a  shilling  in  the  pound.  After  years  of 
schemino-  a  Local  Board  was  formed  for  the  li-overn- 
ment  of  the  district,  and  solemn  assurances  given 
by    men    of  piety    and    respectability    that    under    no 


CORNER  OF  LAWN  AT  THK  OLD  PARSONAGE 


circumstan.ces  would  its  rates  exceed  two  shillings  in 
the  pound.  Gradually  rumours  grew  that  the  Board 
were  giving  the  lanes  and  the  footpaths  away  to  save 
the  expense  of  keeping  them,  and  their  sanitary 
advisers  urfj-inof  them  that  all  houses  without  drains 
and  cellai'S  were  not  tit  for  hal)itati()n,  though 
most  of  the  houses  of  the  aged,  and  this  among 
them,  were  blessedly  witliout  either  drains  or  cellars. 
Permission  had  l)een  oiven  to  close  the  last  of  the 
three    fords    of   tlie    river   when    1    was    elected    to    be 


LIBHAKV    WINDOW 


2  B 


o 


86       PILGKIMAGES    TO    OLD    HOMES 


a  member  of  the  Board.     The  roads  to  two  of  them  I 
saved,  and  miles  of  footpaths  on   the  river  banks.     A 
plavground  was  secured,  and  the  sale  of  the  Poor's  Field 
of  three  acres  for  ^120  was  stopped.     The  income  from 
its  little  gardens  is  now  tibout  ^  1 8  a  year,  and  it  would 
be  hard  to  say  whether  the  payers  or  the  receivers  of 
the  rents  derive   the  greater    l)enefit    therefrom.     The 
getting  of  the  land  on  which  to  build  the  piers  of  the 
bridge   across   the   Mersey  for  /, 25,  under   a   clause   in 
an  Act  of  Parliament,  when  ^1200  had  been  demanded 
for  the  right,  was  one  of  those  pleasant  successes  that 
seldom  come  in  our  public  life.      Sometimes  we  may  be 
thanked  for   our   pains,  sometimes  all  we  get  is  bitter 
hatred.      Every   struggle    that   I   have    had   for    public 
rights  in  Didsbury  has  earned  the  undying  hatred  of  a 
few — but  not  of  many.     On  the  other  hand,  some  of  the 
best  friendships  in  life  have  been  formed  in  puljlic  work. 
The  knowledo-e  of  the  need  for  a  ))roader  basis  for 
our    local    government,    as    our    fast-growing    town    or 
village  joined  on  to  the  city,  caused  me  to  be  the  first 
to  advocate  the  union  of  the  two,  and  now  the  union 
is  accomplished,  the  way  is  smoother  for  another  step. 
Property   that  could   not  be   managed    by   the  officials 
of   a    parish    may    be    by    the    staff   of    a    great    city ; 
though    one   is   almost    in    despair   when    one   sees    the 
historical    moated     hall    at    Clayton    where     Humfrey 
Chetham  was   born,    now   owned   by   the   city  of  Man- 
chester, and  by  them  "restored"  outrageously,  for  they 
have  papered  its  walls  with  vulgar  paper,  and  daubed 
with  dirty  paint  its  time-worn  oak. 

My  property  is  now  a  part  of  the  city,  and  to  the 
city  where  I  have  played  my  part  I  leave  it  for  the 
citizens  and  the  public.  What  they  will  do  witli  it, 
the  Lord  only  knows  ;  l)ut  I  hope  and  trust  that  the 
old  house  will  be  kept  as  it  is,  that  succeeding  genera- 
tions may  at  least  see  what  a  comfortable  home  of  the 
olden  time  was  like. 


REST   AND   PEACE 

"  Light  be  the  hand  of  ruin  laid 
Upon  the  home  I  love." 


2>^7 


As  the  time  draws  nearer  for  me  to  leave  it,  and  be 
carried  out  as  I  have  helped  to  carry  all  that  was 
dearest  to  me,  and  in  deep  thankfulness  for  the  many 
happy  years  lived  here  with  my  loving  mother,  I 
leave  this  our  old  home  for  those  who  have  no 
home,  hoping  that  they  also,  if  only  for  a  little 
while,  may  here  find 

Rest  and  Peace. 


A    DOOJIED    BIT    OF    CHESHIRE 


Index 


Abbot  of  GlastonVmry,  19,  20,  162 

Abbot's  Kitchen,  the,  2  i 

Alfred,  King,  2,  135-139 

Alton  Towers,  68 

Arimathea,  Joseph  of,  7,  15,  26 

Armorial    bearings    on    glass,  246. 

254 
Armscott,  234 
Arthur,  King,  18,  134 
Athelney,  135    1 39 
Audries,  St.,  201 
Avalon,  the  Vale  of,  28 


Baddesley  Clinton,  236-260 

Bala,  1 04 

Banbury,  220-222 

Barlow,    Edward,    258,    262-275. 

320 
Barlow  Hall,  268,  274 
Barringtoii  Court,  t8i,  186-192 
Bath,  20,  29,  124-127,  157 
Beauchamp  College,  186,  191 
Bebington  of  Bebington,  316 
Benedictine,  the,  256 
Berwyns,  the,  105 
Bidford,  drunken,  304 
Birmingham.  2 58 
Birts- Morton,  283-291 
Bi.shops  Lydeard,  139 
Bishop's  Palace,  Wells,  613 
Black  calves  at  Chartley,  54.  59 
Blue  Anchor,  142 
Bradford-on-Avon,  125-128.  171 


Breretons.  the,  320,  324 

British  village,  26 

Browsholme  in  Bowland,  273 

Bryn  Eglwys,  103 

Bull,  the  wild,  62 

Bur  manor-house,  195-197 

Cadbuey,  134 

Cardinal  AVolsey,  287,  318 

Cathedral  .service.  Wells,  29-32 

Cattle,  wild,  46-54,  60-62 

Chaddesley  Corbett,  308 

Charles  Edward,  Prince,  325,  348 

Charlton  Makerel,  166 

Chartley,  44-75,  249 

Chaucer,  157 

Chorley  Church,  Lancashire,  76-80 

Church  of  the  expiation,  249 

Cider,  good,  130 

Civil  War,  the,  84,  188,   190,   214, 

232,  253,  348-351 
C lee ve  Abbey,  [41-143,  201-303 
Cleeve  Prior,  300-304 
Cock-fighting,  356 
Cock  Inn,  360-363 
Coffer,  ancient,  35 
Coleridge,  S.  T.,  195-198 
Compton  Winyate.s,  220-233 
Council-chamber,  229 
Courtenays,  the,  199 
Cromer's  Cross,  150 
Crowcombe,  139 
Croxden  Abbey,  66-69 
Crusader,  the  315 
^  2   B  2 


390 


INDEX 


Darwen  river,  8i,  94  Harvington,  308-314 

Didsbury,  268,  271,  325,343.  360-      Heads  spiked,  20,  26,  349 


387 
Dorothy  Vernon,  120    123 
Dove  river,  58 
Downes  family,  263-266 
Dulverton,  153 
Duukery,  148,  201 
Dunstan,  St.,  19 
Dunster,  142-148,  204-219 
Duxbury,  78 


Edgehill,  226,  234 
Edington.  200 
Education,  42 
Evesham,  304-308 
Exmoor,  149-156,  201 

FARLEKiH  Castle,  130 
Feasting  at  Houghton,  88-90 
Ferrers  family,  54,  59,  246-256 
Fletcher,  Captain,  26,  349,  351 
Fleur-de-Lis  Inn,  130,  183 
Flight  of  the  King,  278 
Flodden,  316-318 
Fromc,  166,  170 

Garnet,  Father,  S.J.,  296,  308 

George  Inn,  the,  130    133 

Ghosts,  366 

Gisburne,  white  bull  of,  52 

Glastonbury,  13-28,  160,  166,  191 

Goldney,  28 

Granny,  41 

Great  Chalfield.  178-181 

Gun})owder  Plot,  294-297 

Haudon  Hall,  108-123 
Hamdon  Hill,  183 
Handforth  Hall,  315-325 
Hanging  Ditch,  369,  382 


Henlip,  30S 

Hiding-holes,  230,   232,   242,   308, 

3i2>  338 
Hoghton  or  Houghton  Tower,  81- 

94 
Honfords  of  Honford,  315 
Horsiiigton  Cross,  32 
Huddington  Court,  293-299 
Huish  Episeopi,  135,  191 


James,  King,  88,  92 
John,  King,  68,  277 
Jesuits,  the,  296,  308 


Lake  dwellings,  26 

Lancashire  hospitality,  89 

Langport,  135 

Leycester  Hospital,  236-238 

Littleton  tithe-barn,  305 

Llanycil,   i  04 

Luttrell  Arms  inn,  142-147,  204 

Luttrells,  the,  2  10-2  i  8 

Lyme  Park,  48 

LytesCary,  159-167 


Macclesfield,  3 1 6 
Malvern  Hills,  287,  290 
^Manchester,  348 
Marmion,  253 
Martock.  190 

Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  46,  70-75 
Mendips,  the,  3,  166,  170 
Methodists,  290 
Minehead,  147,  153,  201 
Moat,  the,  Wells,  4,  7 
Monmouth,  Duke  of,  130 
Montacute,  183,  184,  191 
Morley  Hall,  271 


INDEX 


;9r 


Morphanv  Hall,  354 
^loss,  35,  37,  351,  371 
Muchelney,  135,  191 


"No  Larnin',"  128 

Norton       St.       Philip,       130-133, 

166 
Nuiiiiey  (Aistle,  166,  169 


Old    Parsona(;e,   the,    258,   360- 

3S7 
Ombersley.  308 

Oswestry,  339-341 

Owen,    architect    of    hiding    holes, 

308 
Owl  in  Abney  Tower,  359 


Panelling,  ancient,  358 
Park  Hall.  326-342 
Parsons,  170,  193 
Pilgrim  Puritans,  76-80 
Pilgrim's  Inn,  25,  166 
Plas-yn-Yale,  103 
Porlock,  147,  150,  153 
Poulet,  Sir  Amias,  70-74 
Prehistoric  homes,  26 
Preston  Abbey  farm,  183 
"  Priniit-tive,"  a,  168 
Priscilla,      the     Puritan      maiden, 
78 


QuAXTocKs,  the,  139,  195,  199 
Queen  Elizabeth,  70-74 
Queen  of  Scots,  70-75 


Reindeer  Inn,  the,  221 
Biddings,  the,  352 
Piush-cart,  the,  360 


Salwarpe  Court,  307,  308 

Saxon  Chai)el.  i  26 

Sedgemoor,  30,  200 

Selworthy,  147 

Seymour,  Jane  (Queen),  195 

Shakspere,  155,  236,  304 

Sirloin  of  beef,  88 

Skulls,  26,  262,  268,  273,  349 

Slade  Hall,  343-349 

Somerford  Park,  49   52 

Somerset,  124-219 

Somerton,  191-192 

South  "Wraxall,  171-178 

Spencer,  Miss,  the  heiress,  226 

Stag-hunting,  148-154 

Standish,  ^Myles,  76-80 

Standish  pew,  77 

Standon  Hall,  34 

Standon  Church,  38 

Stanley,  Sir  John,  316-320 

Starkey,  Captain,  blown  u[i,  84 

Stoke-sub-Hamdoi],  183-186 

Stowey,  Nether,  195 

Stratford-on-Avon,  234-236 

Strode,  Colonel,  186-190 

Sunday  sports,    89-92,    147,    168, 

170 
Syddalls,  the,  343  35° 


Taunton,  138 
Temple  Gi'afton,  300 
Tewkeslmry,  279-286 
The  '45,  325,  348-351 
Thorn,  the  Holy,  7,  20 
Tithe-barn,  23,  305 
Tories,  170,  351 
Torr  Hill,  20,  138 
Townley's  skull.  273,  351 
Trati'ord  family,  263,  320 
Treasure- trove,  59 
Tunsted,  268 
Tutbury,  55-59,  1 1.  246 


392  INDEX 

Ueiconium.  158 

Verxox  tombs,  1 2  i  - 1 2  2 

Vyrnwy,  106 

Vyse  of  Walford,  34 

Walfoed  Hall,  33-43 
Wardley  Hall,  261-275 
Warwick,  220,  236-239 
Warwick  Castle,  239 
Watchet,  142,  153,  201 
Wells,  3-14,  29-32,  160,  168,  170, 
190-191 


West  Bower,  195-197 
Westwood,  128 
Whalley,  52,  94 
Wheddon  Cross,  148 
Whittington,  327 
Winsford  (Exmoor),  149-152 
Wintours,  the,  296-298 
Worcester,  276-278 
Wordsworth,  195,  198 
Wrexham,  95    102 


Yale,  Elihu,  98   102 
Yeovil,  181,  191 


THE    END 


^00 ks   by   the   same   Author 

1.  A   History   of  Didsbury 

The  Manchester  Guardian 

"If  there  be  such  a  thing  as  the  genius  of  the  place.  Mr.  Moss  is 
probably  better  entitled  than  any  one  else  to  be  considered  its  incarna- 
tion. .  .  .  Touches  of  homely  and  pungent  humour  expressed  in  racy 
vernacular."' 

The  Cheshire  County  News 

"...  Intensely  attractive.  Full  of  interest  to  the  lover  of  local  lore 
and  the  England  of  long  ago." 

2.  Didisburye   in   the   '45 

3.  A    History   of  Cheadle   and   Gatley 

4.  Folk-Lore,   Old   Customs,   and   Tales 

Notes  and  Queries 

"Mr.  Moss's  book  we  unhesitatingly  commend  to  our  readers.  It  will 
be  useful  to  some  and  agreeable  to  all." 

The  Manchester  Courier 

"The  chief  charm  of  this  book  is  that  it  supplies  in  a  handsome 
form  a  record  of  old  people,  old  places,  and  old  customs,  compiled  with 
equal  skill  and  sympathy.  Only  a  true  lov^er  of  his  neighbours  and  of 
his  country  could  have  entered  so  truly  into  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  rural 
life,  and  only  a  true  literary  artist  could  have  given  the  themes  their 
proper  setting." 

5.  Pilgrimages  in  Cheshire  and   Shropshire 

6.  Pilgrimages   to   Old    Homes,   mostly   on 

the   Welsh    Border 


^^OA/ 


D     000  323  314 


